This Is My Choice
by Aelia O'Hession
Summary: There are some plots of Fate that cannot be changed. But sometimes, all it takes is just a little ripple for Destiny to change. For Dagonet, it comes in the form of the young Celtic woman Fainne.
1. Part One

**This Is My Choice**

**By: Aelia O'Hession**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of King Arthur. The only thing that is actually mine is the character of Fainne. That's just about it. So if you sue me, you won't get much… just a brick maybe!

**Author's Note: **This little fic is my take of what may have happened had certain events not occurred. The aforementioned events a quite sad and I regret to admit that they are part of the movie. Enough of my drivel…. On with the fic!

**Part One**

Everything had ended. Time had stopped and I had fallen over the edge. Tumbling through this dark expanse, nothing made sense anymore. I was abandoned and there was nothing to guide me anymore. No where to turn, no where to hide. All I know is that I'm shivering in a pile of snow. "Blessed Goddess" I mutter. My thin shift clings to my frozen body as I stumble forward. As I trip on a hidden tree root, the cold metal of my Trinity slaps my bare flesh. I slump forward, the cold claiming the last of my senses. Closing my eyes, I beg for sleep to take me, and welcome Death's icy fingers.

Sometime later, I awake to the sound of horses' hooves approaching. I realize that this is no dream and that Death has refused to take me. Barely, I muster the strength to turn my head in the direction of the sound. Through the slits of my eyes, I see knights on horseback, wagons and villagers moving along a path. I try to cry out, but I can not find my voice. Weakly, I raise my hand slightly, in hope of catching someone's attention.

"Halt!" a voice cries.

Slowly the caravan comes to a stop. A knight climbs out of one of the wagons. He is tall and serious looking. Another knight rides up tom him.

"What…?"

Wordlessly, the knight walks past the one on horseback. Slowly he makes his way through the underbrush to where I lay. He scans the land, trying to find some trick of the Woads or Saxons. Finding nothing, he kneels at the pile of now that is my body. Gently, he brushes some snow away from me. I make a slight movement of fright, and he catches it. I have told him that I am alive, if barely.

"Get blankets!" he cries. He continues to brush the snow away. From the corner of my eye I see someone approach with an armload of blankets. "You needn't fear me," he says as he wraps my frozen body in the warm blankets.

I am brought to the wagon where the knight carrying me had first appeared from. Inside I perceive a young boy, a young woman and an elder woman who appears to be caring for the young woman. The knight settles me in a corner, near the young boy.

"I am Dagonet," the knight tells me. "You're safe now."

Before sleep claims me, I manage to mutter, "I'm Fainne." My eyes close as the wagon starts to move again. I drift off to sleep, this time not wishing Death to claim me.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

**A/N: **Many thanks to Mustang Gal, Quinn-FanFicAddict, and rigbear for their reviews! Much love to you. Hope you enjoy this! And yes, I completely concur, there should be more Dagonet fics.

**Part Two**

We traveled steadily East for a few days. Over that period, I began to gain a sense of the people that I was with. Slowly, I began to trust them. I do not trust easily, but I find that these people are genuinely good and want to help me, not destroy me. The young boy, Lucan, is my delight. To pass the dull time of travel, I tell him great stories of warriors, wizards, and faeries, and times long ago. They are tales form my own land, tales that he has never known. I also teach him counting games and riddles so that he may not be brought up ignorant like many peasants.

Of the young Woad woman, Guinevere, I know little. We are very different, she and I. She enjoys fighting and men-craft. She is a warrior; of that much I am certain. Myself on the other hand, I am quiet and reserved. My trade is that of a healer. Such skills as mine are hard to find in these parts I am told.

Today, Guinevere insists on telling my about the cause her people are fighting for. She is adamant on seeing her people free to live in their own land.

"What about you, Fainne? Don't you want to see our people to live in the lad that is ours?"

I sigh at her. "Guinevere, they are your people, not mine. My people are of the Western Isle, known to my people as Erin. The Romans know my land as Hibernia. My people are the Celts."

She peered at me in the dimness. Tentatively, she reached a hand out touch my long auburn curls. "Such wondrous hair, bright summer blue eyes, milk white skin. Your people are just like out of the faery tales that my mother used to tell me when I was a child. I never knew that your people existed. Haven't the Romans come?"

"They did; that's why I'm here with you now." I shook my head as memory overcame me. "They came to our shores and tried to enslave my people. The clans rallied together and stopped the Romans. But still many of my clan-members remained enslaved."

Guinevere looked at me. "What so you truly want Fainne?"

"A home and a family to go home to. I've been away for so long…" I leaned back against the wagon's walls. I was about to speak when Guinevere's attention was stolen by Arthur. I could clearly see that she fancied him. Her attention always strayed to him. I was not about to stop anything either.

I had come to understand the dynamic of the Sarmatian knights. Arthur is their captain beyond a doubt. The men of Lancelot, Tristan, Galahad, Gawain, Bors, and Dagonet would follow him through the dark deep and back again. Goddess knows that each of them is a formidable warrior and courageous as well. They have all been very kind to me. Each of them is very different in their own unique way. Lancelot is our voice of reason, the one fully aware of the reality around him. Tristan is our rogue, an intriguing mystery. Galahad is our dreamer, the one who wishes to be free of his so-called duty to return home. Gawain is our fighter, not caring if he should die in battle. Bors, with his many children, so I am told, has a desire to be the governor of a village when the Romans leave. All of these men are dear to me in their own special way.

But strong and quiet Dagonet is the one that I trust the most and endear myself to. I see how he takes care of Lucan as a father would, and I am touched by the gesture. For all of his ferocity on a battlefield, I see an innate gentleness inside of him that he cannot show often. Even his care of me is gentle and careful. It is as if he does not want to break me.

Desperate for some movement and to let my mind wander on simpler things, I leap from the wagon to walk beside it. My bare feet crunch the snow, but I am barely aware of the chill. For a sense of security in a strange, but beautiful land, I pull Dagonet's deep brown cloak closer to my body. Gazing at the trees, I loose myself in simple thoughts of the landscape.

"Well hello, fair maiden."

Spinning around in mid-step, I come face to face with one of the Roman soldiers from Marius' estate.

"Leave me," I say, hoping that he would.

No such luck. Instead, he snakes an arm around my waist, letting his hand graze my butt. I try to pull away from the vile creature, but he holds me hostage with his arm.

"You must be cold, let me warm you." The Roman pulls me closer.

Sickened and frightened, I try to jerk away. Tears start to trickle down my face. "Let me go!" I struggle to break free.

The Roman sneers at me. "You want to play rough, wench?"

"Don't touch me!" I cry. My mind whirls and reels out of control. I beg the Goddess to let everything stop. "Goddess be merciful" I whisper.

Heedless of everything around us, the Roman flings me to the frozen ground. He hitches up my skirt and straddles me. I thrash about beneath him and hit my head on a rock. He holds me down tighter and my screams of protest grow louder.

The next thing I know is that the Roman is being yanked off me and a broadsword is at his throat. Above me stands Dagonet, his blade at the Roman's throat. "You shall not touch her. Do so, and you will die."

Standing shakily, and trying to pull together a scrap of decency, I wipe away my tears and smooth my skirt. It is torn beyond reason. I pull Dagonet's cloak around me to hide rips and smudges of dirt and snow.

Arthur then rides up. "What is the matter here?"

Mustering my courage I say, "This Roman tried to rape me." Fresh tears begin to slide down my cheeks as I recall the incident.

"Dagonet's order stands firm. Touch her and die." Arthur rides off, leaving me with Dagonet and the Roman.

"Be gone," Dagonet snaps at the Roman. With hard features, he watches the Roman skulk away. Turning to me, his features soften. Without asking why I was out of the wagon or passing judgment on me for the occurrence, Dagonet merely requests, "Ride with me." I nod in assent, and then his strong arms are picking me up and placing me atop his horse. Then, he swings up behind me and wraps me in a firm but gentle embrace. We rode ahead of the caravan for a time, scouting out the road ahead and looking for a place to camp for the night. We reported back to Arthur and he decided to make camp.

While making camp, Lucan made is quite clear that he would not be separated from either Dagonet or me. This changed the plan a bit. I was supposed to share a tent with Guinevere, but now I was moved to be with Lucan and Dagonet. It was decided that I would sleep with Lucan in the makeshift tent while Dagonet slept just outside. Before I could settle in for sleep, Marius' wife, Flavia made me a warm bath the clean the filth off me. She even gave me a new gown and a pair of sturdy boots.

"I'd hate to see one such as you die of cold," she said to me.

Ignoring Guinevere's wandering of the camp, I made my way back to Lucan and Dagonet. He was just tucking Lucan in when I returned. Such a simple gesture made my heart melt.

"Sit with me by the fire," he said. After some considerable time of silence he asked, "Why me?"

His question was abrupt and it startled me. "Why?" I paused and searched my mind for the truth. Honestly, the truth was right in front of me. "You saved me when I thought no one would. You have shown me great kindness that I feel unable to repay. You, Dagonet of Sarmatia, have helped me live again."

With his steady gaze of bright blue eyes, he looked at me carefully. I believe he is trying to judge the sincerity of my words. To be honest, I meant every one of them. He would find no lie in my eyes that night. He sighed and gave my hand a tentative caress. "You best get some sleep. We've Saxons to avoid."

I crawled in beside Lucan. He was fast asleep. Dagonet tucked a blanket around us before settling down just outside. Contentment and security washed over me as I fell asleep that night. I had never known such peace before. I hoped against hope that is would last.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

**A/N: **My many and fervent thanks to the following: starnat, SpectralLady, Quinn-FanFicAddict, PheonixFyre, and Mustang Gal. Your heartfelt reviews are warmly appreciated. Hope I'm not disappointing you with this next part. Enjoy!

**Part Three**

I awoke at dawn, not because of the breaking sunlight, but because I felt Lucan being pulled away from my side. Shaking the sleep from my eyes, I see Dagonet fighting with several Romans while Marius taunts him by holding a blade to Lucan's throat. Scrambling out of bed, I rush towards Lucan.

"Seize her!" Marius cries to some Roman soldiers.

They rush forward as Dagonet screams my name. "Fainne!"

I twist and struggle, but they hold me captive. I am brought to stand beside Marius and Lucan, a blade presses to my throat as well. I feel Lucan grab at my hand and I give it a reassuring squeeze. Flavia rushes forward, but she is shoved out of the way by her own husband.

"I've got the boy and the woman!" Marius taunts. "What is a Knight to do?" To his soldiers he cries, "Kill him!"

No one got a chance to move as an arrow flies out of nowhere, making its mark in Marius' chest. I find the source of the arrow to be Guinevere. Scooping up Lucan, I bolt towards Dagonet.

"Stay back," he commands. I am more than willing to obey. I am not a fighter; I'm the one who has to clean up the mess when it is all over. Holding Lucan close for both his comfort and my own I prepare to watch the impending fight. But Arthur and Lancelot soon follow Guinevere. He puts a swift end to the morning's ruckus.

Once Arthur is gone, Dagonet turns his attention to Lucan and me.

"Are you hurt?" He proceeds to do a quick once over of us to check for any wounds we may have received.

I boldly take his hand. "We're alright. We were not hurt. Do not worry."

He gives me a slight smile. "We've got to get moving again. Saxons are fast approaching."

Our little caravan traveled a bit further East before we arrived at the frozen lake that Tristan had found earlier.

"There is no other way." From my position in the wagon, I am able to catch bits of Tristan's explanation to the other Knights.

I see the slight worry play across Arthur's face. He had never intended for this to happen. I believed he had hoped that it would never come to this. "Get everyone out if the wagons. Have them spread out across the ice."

Taking Lucan, I carefully step onto the ice. Below the ice groans and hairline cracks begin to form from the weight. Lucan holds my hand tightly. For his sake, I must not show the fear that is pulsing in my veins.

Behind us the sound of the pounding Saxon drums grows ever closer. Inch by agonizing inch, we cross the frozen expanse. When we reach the opposite bank, we all know a hard choice must be made.

"Fainne, what will happen?" Lucan's question pulls me from my fears.

"I do not know. Arthur has a choice before him that he must make. Then our fate will be decided."

Lucan looks at me with his soft brown eyes. "Will you stay with me?"

I lean down and hug the boy fiercely. "I will always stay with you." In truth, Lucan had become like a son to me. My whole existence revolved around him right now. Carefully I walk closer to the circle of knights. Their discussion is dark.

"There's no hope of running." Galahad says.

Bors looks around. "Let's do this. Here, now."

A flurry of commands is given and our sedate little caravan comes to life. Weapons are gathered and distributed amongst the Knights and villagers are sent on their way. Arthur has put Ganis in charge of those who are to be traveling with the caravan to the Great Wall.

"Fainne."

I jump in surprise. Dagonet has quietly snuck up on me. His face is serious, but his eyes show me his fear.

"Dagonet…What…?" My voice betrays my own fears. I long for comfort, but I know that I will receive none in this dark hour.

"Fainne, take Lucan and stay with the caravan. Make haste to the Wall. You will be protected there. Bors' wife Fenora will take you in. He has promised me this. Save yourself." Dagonet's large and rough, but gentle hand cups my cheek. "Be careful."

I raise my hand to grasp his while tears flow freely down my face. Chill winds blow around us, freezing me to the core.

"Fainne, don't…" Dagonet's voice shakes with unspeakable emotion.

I reach behind my neck and undo the clasp of my necklace. I place my Trinity in his hand. "Take this token. Promise me you will return."

Dagonet clips the necklace around his neck. Leaning forward, he kisses my brow. "I promise," he whispers so that I can barely hear.

Stepping away I allow Lucan to hug him before make our way back the caravan. With a heavy heart I leave the Knights standing on the ice. The Saxon drums pound in my ears. Taking that evil and foreboding drum beat, I use it to create a song, one of hope.

"I'm waiting at the crossroads

Waiting got you

With the blossoms around us

Promising true

Dreaming on the high wind

Dream it for you

And return to our lost ocean blue"

(Moya Brennan – Tara)

I give the Knights one last longing look before turning to go. My world is collapsing around me again. I long for the momentary safety that I had found while traveling with Dagonet and the Knights.

That night in the wagon I cried myself to sleep. I tossed and turned in the frigid night air. No blanket could warm me that night. My dreams were not my own that night. The Goddess claimed them to show me my path. From a vantage point on high, I saw everything.

_Arthur, the Knights and Guinevere all stood, prepared for battle. The pounding of the drums echoes in the mountains. Finally after many anxious minutes, the Saxons appear on the other bank of the lake._

_Cynric, the Saxon leader's son, calls for an archer. Arthur's men are out of range for the Saxon archers. Tristan and Bors return the favor. Their arrows reach their Saxon targets. Cynric and his men begin their onset. The Knights greet their approach with volleys of arrows. The Saxons begin to cluster, but the ice holds firm. _

_Arthur gives the command to prepare for combat. They fall back. As the Saxons ever approach closer, the ice will still not break. Dagonet picks up his axe and takes great long strides out onto the ice. Raising his axe above his head, he brings it down hard on the ice. Cracks begin to form as Dagonet strikes the ice repeatedly. Saxon arrows fly at him and the Knights arrows protect him. Finally the ice gives way. A Saxon arrow finds its mark in Dagonet's side. He slumps forward as the ice cracks around him. _

_Arthur rushes forward to rescue him. The ice continues to break, forcing the Saxons to retreat. Bors joins Arthur at Dagonet's side. They drag him back to safety. _

_"Dag, stay with me," Bors begs. _

_"We must get him back to the caravan," Guinevere says. "Fainne's a healer. Maybe she can save him…"_

I wake in a shaking cold sweat screaming Dagonet's name. "Blessed Goddess, please do not let it be so."

Flavia rushes to my side, trying to calm me. I will have no comfort. I allow Lucan to offer what little comfort he can. He knows the reason for my upset. Quietly, I calm myself with another snatch of song, one learned long ago from my mother.

"Show me the way

Where I belong

Please, show me the way

To find you

Show me the way

To hear your song"

(Moya Brennan – Show Me)

All I could do now is wait for when The Knights would join up with us again.


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

**A/N: **A special thanks to SpectralLady who corrected my spelling of Vanora! And as always, my warmest thanks to PheonixFyre, Quinn-FanFicAddict, starnat, and Mustang Gal. Your reviews are always appreciated!

**Part Four**

For the remainder of the journey to the wall I pulled within myself. I barely spoke to anyone, with the exception of Lucan being my sole confidante. This time alone allowed me to reflect upon my current situation with Dagonet in explicit detail. My thoughts began at the very first day of our meeting. I believe his rescue of me was more than pure chance. While I am unsure of his true motivations behind creating a bond with me, I know some of his more basic feelings. He shows me the utmost kindness and devotion. He himself had nursed me back to health when a trained healer could have dome so. He always made sure that I was provided for in the most acceptable manner. Not once did he push me aside when I longed for companionship and conversation. Dagonet always tried to include me in harmless camaraderie between the Knights. More than once had I been the instigator of a practical joke on either Galahad or Lancelot. I know where my affections stand, but of his I am not so sure.

"Fainne, I've a secret to tell you." Today Lucan was being considerably talkative. I also happened to be the one he babbled to the most. But I did not mind. It kept me from staying within my thoughts for too long. "You must promise not to tell."

Curiosity got the better of me and I replied, "I promise. Now, what have you to say?"

Lucan moved closer to me in the wagon. Obviously, only I was intended to hear his great secret. "I know that Dagonet fancies you." I blinked rapidly at him in disbelief. "He told me so! He made me promise not to tell. But you look so sad that I thought I'd tell you to make you happier. He says that you are gentle and kind; undeserving of a man like him. I do not think so. I think you are perfect for each other." While he spoke, Lucan's face glowed with excitement. There was something about the way that he spoke that told me that he wished ass of this to be true beyond a doubt.

As for myself, I am overwhelmed by this new information, however slanted by the wishes of a child it may be. I left Lucan to take a walk alongside the wagon to clear my thoughts. "Could it be so? But why me? I have nothing to offer." My thoughts reel as I wonder at this.

Once again Lucan claims my attention. "Fainne, look!" He points ahead on the road. "The Great Wall!"

Indeed, there is the famous Hadrian's Wall towering before me. Before I even step foot within it, I feel trapped. Being used to the open freedom of my native homeland, to be confined within walls is torture of the worst sort. Maybe it will not be so bad. Perhaps I can find some solace in this new place.

Bishop Germanius welcomes Alecto and his mother. He seems unperturbed that Marius in not among us. I notice that Alecto is less than pleased to see the Bishop. Perhaps he knows that the Bishop too has lost is way like his father.

"Where are Artorius and his Sarmatian knights?" Bishop Germanius looks around at us expectantly.

Alecto responds to the question. "They had to face the Saxons that pursued us through the mountains. I expect that they will return soon."

Lucan and I take leave of the caravan. Since we own nothing, we do not need to gather anything from the wagons. The only thing I lay claim to is Dagonet's brown cloak that he left with me. Carefully I scan the crowd, hoping to find a woman with a large brood of children. I spot them in a corner, observing the caravan. Tentatively, I make my way towards the woman with Lucan in hand.

"Are you Vanora, wife of Bors, the Sarmatian Knight?" I prayed to the Goddess that she was the right one.

She looks ate me with a critical eye. "I am, and you are?"

"Fainne. Bors and Dagonet have promised me that you would take Lucan and me in until they return." I present her with a handkerchief that Bors gave to ensure that she would believe me.

Vanora studies the handkerchief carefully. "My man gave you this?"

I nodded, fearful that she would reject me. She seemed to notice my fear.

"Oh don't worry lass, you've got a place. I was just wondering what my old Bors and Dagonet have to do with this. But come, you look tired. Let me help you get settled in. And by the looks of things, you need some new clothes, your son too." Without any further ceremony, Vanora guided Lucan and me off to her home, followed by all eleven on her children.

For the next few days, I began to settle into life within the shadow of the Wall. I tended to act as a nursemaid for all of the children while Vanora worked at the tavern. The bustle of the little community was lost upon me. Growing up in a small village had given me a taste for calm, free atmospheres.

One day, while Vanora was helping me deliver a child to a local woman, she asked, "What were my man and Dagonet doing concerning themselves with you, if you don't mind me asking."

I actually laughed. "It's more of Dagonet's concern really. I found me lying half dead in a pile of snow by the side of the road. He nursed me back to health. And actually, Lucan isn't my son. He's a Woad boy that Dagonet found at Marius' estate. He made Bors promise that you would let me stay with you until Dagonet returns."

"Dagonet, always playing the hero." Vanora gave a laugh. "He has a very strong honor code. But if you have been able to break him, I bless you. You will be good for him."

Now I was unsure to make of the conversation. I told the woman that in was helping to deliver her child to give a mighty push. "What do you mean?"

"Dagonet's too stiff. He needs a good woman. And if he's been providing for you in the way that you say he has, then that means his heart has made a decision, even if his mind does not let him believe it."

I left the home after safely delivering the child. It was a beautiful baby girl. I rejoiced to know that both child and mother would be fine. However, I was not sure that my thoughts would be so focused. Everything that Vanora had said rattled about in my mind. I had just barely made it home and was about to remove Dagonet's cloak when Vanora came running in after me.

"Fainne, come quickly! Gather your medicines."

I dared not question her. Instead I grabbed my small satchel that I had just put down, pulled Dagonet's cloak around me and ran after her. The two of us dashed through the streets making our way to where the Roman's had made their home.

Outside I see some of the Knights standing, grave expressions on their faces. Lancelot greets me at the door. "Good to see you safe. Come with me."

Lancelot leads me through the dark corridors of the Roman dwelling. The air is suffocating to breath. I am surprised to see any living within. My senses seem to shut down as we continue on. I long to be outside in the free air again.

"The worst is yet to come," Lancelot tells me.

I am not comforted in the least. I am brought before a very solid looking door. From the other side I hear the faint mutterings of Latin. If Christian priests are within, I feel as though I will lose myself.

"You are wanted within. Let not your courage fail, for you will need all of it." Lancelot gives me a quick hug before retreating back to join the other Knights and Vanora outside. Oh how I longed to follow him to where the air was fresh.

Anxiety washes over me as I place my hand on the door latch. What I see next abhors me.

Inside a dimly lit room I see Dagonet lying on a bed, grey as a corpse. The windows are latched tightly shut and the air is heavy with incense. Around the bed, Bishop Germanius leads priests in Latin prayers.

Slowly I ask, "What is the meaning of this?"

"We are preparing him for God's healing hand. May he be brought to the holy light of our Lord God Almighty." The Bishop looks at me as though I should understand this.

I sweep about the room in a flurry throwing open the windows and smothering the incense. "Stop this at once! There is no place for your god's healing here. Only mortal healing may be of use now." Turning, I see Arthur sitting by Dagonet's side, fearing for his comrade. "Arthur," I implore him. "Please escort these men out. They are of no use to me."

I see my task clearly before me. My time is limited, this I know too well. Dagonet lies in the delicate balance between life and death. I become aware that the Bishop and his priests have not left. "OUT!" I bellow at them. "Leave me to my work!"

Finally they leave by the point of Arthur's sword. Sinking to my knees at Dagonet's bedside, I allow myself to cry for him. "Dagonet," I beg, "Come back to me. I need you here."

Summoning what little courage I possess, I begin my task. My entire focus is on Dagonet. Nothing shall deter me from this. There is too much hanging in the balance for me to falter now. As a woman, it is my fate to watch the world of death that men create. But it is my duty as a woman to bestow life. Here, in this dark chamber, I choose life for the man lying before me. I choose life and love.


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

**A/N: **As always, my greatest appreciation to those of you who have reviewed! To Mustang Gal, Julianna Edwards, Quinn-FanFicAddict, Dazzler420, PhoenixFyre, starnat, and SpectralLady. Your love of this fic keeps me writing more! Thank you all very much!

**Part Five**

I had never imagined that my task would be so hard. Dagonet's wound was deep and a fever had set into his body with a vengeance. If only I had been with them after the battle. Things would have been so much easier to heal then. That damn Bishop and his silly prayers; did he really believe that his confounded prayers were going to work? I tried, but at some moments, it does not seem to be enough. I curse the Goddess for not allowing me to be at his side. I could have done so much for him.

For three days I have known nothing of the outside world. My entire focus remains on saving Dagonet's life. If he dies, I shall follow; of that much I am certain. It is choice I made when I began. From the girl that brings me my food, I learn that the Saxons have come to the wall.

I learned this yesterday.

Today I hear the sounds of a ferocious battle. I dare not venture out of my safe healing chamber. Every time I hear those sounds, my mind tries to cave and make me remember the fear that I lived in while in Ireland. Lucan has joined me here; he refused to be taken away with Vanora's brood to safety. I am glad of Lucan's company. He does not let me dwell on what may happen if I fail. Even now, as I sit creating a cooling salve for Dagonet's fever, I hear Lucan telling him one of the hero stories I had told him during the journey.

It is hard to call Dagonet back from the Shadows where he has retreated. He is a warrior, resigned to know Death's icy summons in battle. I refuse to let him go. I pour every ounce of my being into this salve. It is the last medicine that I will be able to make. I this fails, everything is in the Goddess' hands.

Lucan comes over and crawls into my lap. "Fainne, make Dagonet come back."

I soothingly stroke Lucan's curly head. "I am trying my hardest." For a moment, I sit there, comforting Lucan and allowing myself to believe that the three of us are a family. It is a picture that my heart but my mind tells me I cannot have it. "Come, I have one last method to try." I hand Lucan the small pot of cooling slave I had made. "Smear this on his face and chest. I will be placing hot bricks wrapped in cloth by his side to try and draw out the fever." It was a last resort. Dagonet's wound had healed, but the fever refused to leave.

We work in efficient silence, both of us understanding the gravity of the situation. The sounds of the battle penetrate the thick walls that surround us, but we try our best to ignore them. The noise affects me the most I believe. It is too reminiscent of when the Romans came and kidnapped my clanswomen and me.

Terrified and exhausted, I fall onto the side of Dagonet's bed. My vision swims before me and my old life flashes before the weary eyes. Unconsciously, as I fight the pain of the past, I take Dagonet's hand within my own as a piece of reality. Slowly, I fall into a fitful slumber, gripping Dagonet's hand for dear life.

"…she's been like this since midday."

Consciousness slowly began to steal in. Why was Lucan speaking when there was no one in the room that could properly respond? My body then decides to tell me that I've been covered with a blanket. Now I am utterly confused. There are people here that should not be and Lucan is talking with them. Rising up on the bed and shoving curls away from my face I demand, "Who's there?"

"Fainne!" Lucan cries while flinging his arms about my neck. "Dagonet lives! Arthur has returned from the great battle with the Saxons! Tristan is dead and Lancelot is gravely injured…." Lucan keeps babbling, but my attention is drawn back to the bed that I am still sitting on.

My gaze rests on Dagonet who happens to be watching me closely. I tilt my head in question, but he does not answer. Sternly I say, for lack of anything else, "Don't you scare me like that ever again!" Then before I can stop myself, I find myself flinging my arms about his neck and embracing him tightly. Instead of pushing away, Dagonet gives me a tentative embrace back. Something deep within me longs so smother him with kisses, but I suppress that feeling. There are other matters at hand besides my own personal longing.

Slowly, I realize that the others there wish to speak with me. I pull away from Dagonet and turn to face the Knights who stand in the room watching. They are covered in dirt and blood, fresh wounds marking their skin. "What happened?"

Bors took the question and answered in his own way. "Saxons came and decided to throw a little party." This issued some slight snickers from the others, but nothing much else.

Arthur turns to look at me. Pain is scored across his face. "Lancelot requires your skills as a healer. Please…" He lets his question hang in the air.

"Where is he?" Already I am on my feet and seizing my practically empty medicine satchel.

"Next room over."

I look at the pitiful state of my herbs. There is no way in this Goddess blessed Earth that I could do a proper job with the few supplies I have left. "Gawain, can you fetch me the following items?" After he nods in the affirmative, I run off a list. "Lucan, Galahad, watch after Dagonet for me. I will just be in the next room if you need me for anything."

Arthur follows behind me as I make my way to the next room through the dark oppressive halls of the Roman building. I push open the next door and find Lancelot sprawled on a bed, blood soaking the sheets. His armor has already been removed and I can clearly see the wounds. Gawain comes in with the requested things and wishes me the best of luck. In actuality, Lancelot will be much easier to heal. Though his wounds are grave, he will live to see a few more years.

From that point forward, I divide my time between caring for Dagonet and Lancelot, being a mother to Lucan and being a healer for all of the other wounded warriors. I do not believe I have ever been this busy my entire life. There are so many that need attention. Seeing that blood stained field breaks my heart. Such a cruel world that men create.

Time passes along, and slowly my task as healer for the warriors comes to an end. But the passing of time has brought many changes. The Romans have left Britain entirely. Everything has been left to the people who still dwell here. Sometimes I can barely remember what it was like when the Romans were here. But that makes little difference because I never truly lived under the Roman occupation.

They say that nothing is easy; and I full well agree. After the Battle of Badon Hill, so many of us have to start out lives anew. Many, live Vanora, have come back to live in a familiar land that has been home for many years. Others, like myself, must forge new lives in a strange new land. My heat aches for my homeland, but not for my family. My family was never the warmest of families; affection was lukewarm at most.

I will stay here with Lucan, of that much I am certain. Besides, the Knights refuse to let me leave them. They tell me that I have become part of their little family. It is a strange feeling, knowing that I now belong somewhere and have people care for me. They have offered to build me a home anywhere I please, so long as it is close to them. Laughingly I agree to accept the offer. Even now, as I stand here washing Lucan and my laundry, I see them building me a small but spacious Celtic roundhouse by the edge of the forest. My gaze then turns to the surroundings. I laugh out loud.

"What's so funny?" Lucan asks.

"Remember how the Knights said they would build us a home? Well, they are building one, between Vanora's home and the barracks that connect to the main building. They really do want us close, don't they?"

"They promised me that when I'm old enough, they'll start training me to be a great Knight, just like they are!" Lucan's eyes are bright with this future prospect. I smile, slightly saddened by this thought. One day I will be a mother, wishing her son safety on his first mission.

At the close of Spring, everyone has gathered to witness the wedding of Guinevere and Arthur.

"Our people are one, as you are." Merlin is presiding over the ceremony.

Their ceremony is so beautiful. As I stand with Vanora and her children, I overhear Bors remark that now he will have to marry her. I laugh to myself, holding Lucan by the hand. Glancing down, I see his other hand firmly gripping Dagonet's pant leg. All around me I see changes for my family. Selfishly, I wonder when mine will be or have they all occurred?

"Your biggest changes are yet to come," a voice in the wind whispers in my ear. "Your story is far from told. Much awaits; have patience my daughter." As suddenly s it came, it has left me to puzzle over it's meaning.


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**

**A/N: **Look! Another part! Know what that means? It's not over yet folks! There's much more in store for our dear Dagonet and Fainne. And now, I shall express my constant gratitude to my faithful readers/reviewers! To: Quinn, Mustang Gal, SpectralLady, starnat, Julianna Edwards, Barbara of the Green Tea, PhoenixFyre, and everyone else you reads but doesn't review! On with the fic!

**Part Six**

"Lucan! Lucan, where are you?"

Summer has come and typically, a mother cannot find her son when the weather is good. In my case, I could not find my adopted son.

Sighing in defeat, I leave the shade of my garden with its healing herbs to find Lucan. I walk off towards the village center. There the tavern, the practice fields and the market sit, enticing little ones to run away for the day. Maybe he is with Vanora's children. I know I should not worry, but I cannot seem to help it.

Today the sun is bearing down mercilessly. Due to the heat, I have forgone my traditional conservative garb of an elbow length sleeved dress and boots for bare feet and a light, somewhat form fitting strappy dress. It is the color of my eyes, and I love it. My people always wore these when the weather got nice. I know I should not dress so when this village crawls with Knights, but the heat is unbearable.

"Lucan," I call again.

Then, my ears perceive the sound of musical childish laughter. It seems to be coming from the practice fields.

"Oh blessed Goddess," I mutter to the wind.

The sight that greets me upon my arrival is a strange one. All of Vanora's children and my Lucan are off to the side of the dusty practice field. Their full attention is on the sweaty shirtless Knights who are sparring.

"Mathair!" Lucan cries as he turns his gaze. Recently I have taught him my people's word for mother. Occasionally he will use it, and that gladdens my heart.

"Staying out of trouble I hope?" Gently I chide him, mot truly angry. Lucan gives me an agonized look and then sticks out his tongue at me. In response, I stick mine out at him.

Meanwhile, the Knights have ceased their sparring and watched the exchange.

"Well, look here," Gawain says. "If it isn't Mother, come to check up on us."

I turn my attention to the Knights. My steady gaze washes over them, but I feel my eyes linger on Dagonet longer than they should. My Trinity, which is still around his neck, gleams in the bright sunlight. Quickly, I avert my eyes before anyone notices.

"What brings you, dressed such?" Bors indicates my dress. He seems to believe that I have an ulterior motive for this.

I avoid answering his question by asking him one. "Do you enjoy stealing children away from their chores?"

Lucan's eyes grow wide with appall. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I know I promised…"

"Hush, hush. I'm not angry." I reassured him that it was not fault of his. Instead, I glared at Lancelot, who I knew to have lured him away to the practice fields. In the time that I had healed him, Lancelot had become like a brother to me. An annoying, pesky little brother who always had to be watched carefully.

Later that night, after Lucan was tucked into bed, I wandered out. Everyone seems to be gathered at the tavern this night. But I am in no mood to deal with bawdy drunken Knights. I make my way across the fields towards the forest. Maybe I can find solace there tonight. Silently I make my way along well known paths. My mind wanders as my feet lead me along this leafy path. Eventually, I find myself in a familiar grove with a small lake. In the moonlight that cuts through the trees, I perceive a lone figure sitting on the fallen tree trunk that lies by the lakeside.

"Who…" I quietly ask the dark.

The figure turns about. A well known deep and even voice says, "Fainne." It speaks my name as a whisper.

"Dagonet," I reply in an equally hushed tone. Pulling my courage together, I force myself to kneel in front of him. "Dagonet, speak to me," I implore him. "You have barely spoken ten words to me since Badon Hill. Why?"

"I do not trust myself," is his stoical reply. "I do not deserve… you."

"And yet you wear my Trinity as a token still…" Now I was confused. He had just said that he did not trust himself and that he did not deserve me. What in the name of the Blessed Mother Goddess was he trying to tell me?

"This is not simple. I am a Knight, destined to die at the hands of my adversary. I do not deserve what you have given me… another chance at life. I do not deserve you and what you may provide." His voice trembled with emotion.

I longed to wrap him in my arms to comfort him, but I feared that it would change things irrevocably.

Dagonet continued. "And yet, even now, every fiber of my soul longs for you. To hold you close, to keep you safe… forever."

My blood coursed at these soft words spoken by this hardened Knight. Here, in this little grove protected by the ancients of the land, he was giving me his heart. I sit back on my heels in speechlessness. How was I supposed to respond to such a thing? After everything I have been through? To be offered this? My simple little world has been tilted rather abruptly.

However, Dagonet did not seem to be following his code of honor that night. He leaned forward slightly and captured my lips with his. His kiss was controlled, but I could sense the hunger and desperation behind it. As I rose up, I think he imagined that I was going to pull away because he started to stop. Instead, I did what I have longed to do since out parting on the ice. I crawl into his lap and deepen the kiss. Strong arms encircle me while our hunger for each other is released. My fingertips trace the fine silvery scars that score his shaved head. Beneath my touch he gives a slight shudder. I sigh in contentment as his hands pull my lean frame closer to his battle hardened body. It seems as though we cannot get close enough. My body longs to be rid of the clothes that keep me bound and pull him to the soft loamy earth. Even now, his hands start to play with the hem of my dress which has traveled upwards, revealing my pale but strong legs.

Reluctantly, I pull away before either or both of us lose what little self-control we have left. Catching his face illuminated in a shaft of pale moonlight, I see the joy that is written across Dagonet's face. I smile at him, my world no longer spinning at an unpleasant angle.

There are no words to express how we feel in this moment. We have made a pact as old as the land itself. We are now lovers; two glorious lovers who only know each other. There is nothing that can break what we have forged in this moonlit grove. The wisdom of my people tells me that this will be held firm, for eternity. So, in the last moments of moonlight, we make our way home, hoping no one has missed us. When we arrived, I dared to break the silence.

"Love…what?"

Dagonet places a finger to my lips to silence me. "Secret…until the right moment." It is another state of euphoria as he pulls me in for one last kiss before a new day begins.

I had no sooner bid Dagonet goodnight and was getting into bed when Vanora came running in the door.

"Fainne, good, you're awake."

I looked at the elder woman with some apprehension. "Why? Has something happened to one of the children?" A thousand possibilities entered my head at once; each was more terrible than the first.

"Nay, the children are fine. Bors is with them, as good a father as he is. Guinevere has asked that for you to attend her this morning." Vanora's green eyes watched me carefully, as if she were trying to figure something out.

This request was most unusual. Guinevere never asked me to attend her. Something had to be amiss. Gathering my satchel just in case, I awoke Lucan to tell him where I would be for the morning.

"I'll be with Guinevere. Stay with Vanora or Dagonet 'til I return. Be good." I placed a kiss on the top of his head before I went out. While I walked toward the Roman estate that Arthur had made his headquarters, I sent a prayer to the Goddess hoping that everything was all right.

**A/N: **Yay! Finally some fluff after all that drama! Aren't you all proud of me? I really didn't think it was fair to let Dagonet suffer anymore. Part Seven should be coming soon! Reviews are always welcome and tell me that you appreciate this! Love you all!

Oh, mathair is the Gaelic word for mother. It is pronounced as maw-heer. Just a little bit of reference for you all.


	7. Part Seven

**Part Seven**

**A/N: **As promised, here are my deepest thanks to all of you who review this little work. To: Barbara of the Tea, Quinn, PheonixFyre, Mustang Gal, Spectral Lady, Julianna Edwards and starnat. Your reviews mean so much to me! Oh, by the by, it's nice to know that you all appreciated my little bit of fluff in Part Six. On with the fic… which of course what you are all waiting for.

**Part Seven**

Hurriedly I make my way towards the fortress Arthur and Guinevere now call home. I hear Vanora's footfalls behind me, trying to keep up. Upon my arrival to the gate of the fortress, the guard stops me.

"Admit me to Guinevere." My tone is brusque, not wishing to be delayed. Already I have silently dismissed Vanora back to her children who need her more. The sound of boots crunching on the gravel deters my attention. "Arthur."

He looks at me, relief spreading across his dark face. "Thank God you are here Fainne. Come, Guinevere waits."

Arthur leads me through the fortress. They have done considerable work on it. Now it is much more home like in its atmosphere than it has ever been. Some of the Roman motifs remain, but many have been replaced with Woad motifs.

"She is in there," he points at a door. "She will not admit any of the other Healers or Physicians that have come by to offer help. Perhaps a familiar face will ease her." Concern for his new wife fills his eyes.

I squeeze his forearm in reassurance. "I will do my best to take care of her. This I promise you." I walk to the door and give a knock. "Guinevere? It's Fainne; I'm here to see you."

After a few moments, Guinevere's muffled reply of "Come in" can be heard through the thick door.

Upon my entrance, I see Guinevere lying on bed, pale as a ghost. The scent of sickness hangs thickly in the air. I wonder at how she got sick so easily when there has been little sickness in the village.

"Fainne…" Before she could ask her question, she rolls on her side and retches into a nearby basin.

"Sh, sh," I comfortingly rub her back and hold her hair as she empties her stomach into the basin. When she finishes, I bathe her face with a cool cloth. "Let me have a look."

She admits me; and as only a healer can, I meticulously check her body for any outward signs of illness. A slight fever has set in and her abdomen is slightly swollen. I notice that she is also quite thin, probably from not being able to keep food down. But I decide to ask, just to be sure.

"Guinevere, can you keep any food down?"

"Nothing. If I eat, I simply retch it up." She gives a deep sigh and settles back on the pillows behind her.

A faint smile begins to steal across my lips. To me, the answer to her sickness is clear as a summer's day. I am just surprised that her body reacted so violently to this.

"What?" she demands. "Fainne, your eyes are dancing. What do you know?"

"Answer me this: when were you supposed to have your moonblood?"

"This fortnight. What does that have to do with this?"

I am surprised that she has not figured it out. Her naivety is endearing to me. Guinevere could be a tough warrior, but she knows little of women's craft. I decide that I might as well tell her before she calls for Arthur to get it out of me.

"Guinevere, my dear Queen, you are with child. Congratulations!"

Her face contorts from disbelief to wonder to complete joy. "A baby?" she whispers. "Get Arthur."

I call for Arthur who has been waiting and pacing in the hall just outside. Before he is halfway to her bedside, she starts with the news. I interrupt only once to tell her to drink an herbal tea that I have prepared to bring down the fever. Then, I leave the couple to their happiness.

On my way home, I pass the tavern. It is deserted which is unusual. Normally the place is thriving with people at any time of day. I keep walking, wondering where everyone has got to. Something did not seem right as I walked across the fields towards my home.

"Mathair!" Lucan bellows as he come flying out of the woods. He is pursued by none other than Dagonet and Lancelot. "Help me!" he cries as he wraps his arms around my legs.

I barely have time to brace myself as Dagonet and Lancelot tackle me to the ground. I feel Lucan scramble to safety, leaving me to deal with the Knights on my own. A fighter I am not. Especially against two Sarmatian Knights who are twice my size. The three of us tousle on the ground before I have enough. I have one option. I begin to mercilessly tickle the nearest body.

"Hey!...What?" I have caught Lancelot by surprise. I work on getting him off of me. Dignity forgotten, he scrambles away, leaving me with Dagonet.

Flipping over, I move towards Dagonet. I must admit that I was not entirely truthful before. I do know how to fight a little. My elder brother had taught me a bit before he joined the Celtic army. To have any chance, I must have only one opponent. Forgetting that I am in a dress, I begin to do what my brother had taught me. While we wrestle, everyone else has emerged to watch. Gawain encourages the fight while Bors' children cheer at the spectacle.

Exhaustion finally overcomes me and I fall to the ground in a heap of dusty and grass stained skirts. Dagonet falls beside me and the two of us simply laugh at what has just happened. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"A large and rambunctious game of hide and seek," Galahad explains. He stands beside Gawain who has the look of a Woad with bits of foliage stuck in his hair.

"Then I shall not interfere." I stand up and dust my skirt off as well as I am able. A wicked smile begins to play across my face. I am not as reserved as they believe me to be. I know how to have fun. I close my eyes, covering them with my hands and say, "I will give you ten before I come after you all. One… two…three…" I hear the rapid movement of feet trying to find a hiding place.

"…ten! Coming to get you!" Years of playing this game at home when I was a child in Ireland took over my senses. Suddenly I began to think how a child would while playing this game. Things that adults would not consider for hiding spots were perfect for children. I pursued them all, finding each person one by on. Eventually, I found every one; except for Lancelot. He was the only one who managed to evade me. No one knows where he may have run off to.

On my fourth sweep of the forest, an unnatural movement in a tree above me catches my eye. Hitching up my skirt, I begin my assent up the tree. My hand reaches out and grabs an unmistakable leather tunic.

"I found you, Lancelot!"

"You little wench!" he cries. Then, he makes a sudden movement which causes us both to go tumbling to the ground. The moment I hit the ground I take off running.

"Get back here!" Lancelot cries as he springs into motion.

As he pursues me through the forest, branches tatter my dress and scrape my exposed flesh. Lancelot is the faster runner and more athletic overall, but my small frame allows me to be agile in negotiating the forest trails. Dashing out of the tree line, I see that Vanora has begun settling everyone down to the promised supper.

"Dagonet!" I shriek with mock fright in my voice. "There's a madman after me!"

As Dagonet pulls me close for protection, Lancelot comes bolting from the forest.

Offhandedly, Tristan remarks, "Oh look, I believe I see Fainne's madman."

"I do believe that it is Lancelot," Gawain remarks. "The future romancer of my future wife."

"Fainne!" Lancelot bellows. "Look what you have done to me." His clothes are tattered worse than mine, his face is scratched and he is out of breath.

Childishly I retort, "That's what you get for flinging me out of trees!"

A look of horror crosses Dagonet's face. Slowly and malevolently, he makes his way over to Lancelot. Once in front of him, Dagonet picks the younger man up by the front of his tunic. "You've been flinging her from TREES!"

After meaningless threats are bantered about, we all finally sit down to Vanora's supper. My little display of vivacity over, I retire back to me quiet self. I enjoy keeping the Knights on their guard around me. It makes things more interesting some times. But in doing so, they allow me to be myself and they will not pass judgment on me.

"Fainne, why did Guinevere call for you this morning?" Vanora asks partway through the meal.

"Do not get too close to her," I warn with all seriousness in my voice.

"Why?" Gawain questions stupidly. "It's just Guinevere. We can handle her."

"Not when she is with child." At my statement, everyone goes silent. They have all dealt with a pregnant Vanora, but she knows how to handle the situation. Guinevere will be a mother for the first time.

"Right then," Bors finally says. "Anyone want to take a long trip?"

Laughter fills our humble little gathering. Easily we all settle into our routine of being a large family. None of us would change a thing I imagine. Well, not entirely true, I would change only one thing. I would fulfill my deepest wish and marry Dagonet. But that is for another time. As the night wearies on, I lean against my man. While drifting into peaceful slumber, I thank the Goddess for my blessings.


	8. Part Eight

**Part Eight**

**A/N: **Well everyone, here is another installment of this fic you all seem to love. I warn you now, the rating if this fic will be moving up to R because of what the rest of the fic is going to involve. I would actually rate it more around PG-15, but they don't have it, so R it is.

To my newest reviewer Amirra, welcome! Glad you like this!

To Quinn, Barbara of the Tea, Julianna Edwards, Mustang Gal, PhoenixFyre, starnat, and Spectral Lady: Hope that this is what you like!

Now on to what you all came to read!

**Part Eight**

Excitement; I can feel it coursing through the air around me. Everyone in the village is dashing about, as though there is something important going on. Ever since the Woads have joined us in living in the village near the fortress, things have been a bit different. The lifestyle has changed, but only slightly. I, on the other hand, have an understanding of this new way of life because it is similar to the way I used to live in Ireland with my people.

"Fainne, why's everyone so excited?" Lucan stands beside me, watching as I make some bread.

Quickly I do some figuring in my head. Then, my face brightens as I realize what day it is. "Today is Midsummer! I believe that everyone is preparing for the festival that we will be having tonight."

Lucan's eyes brighten. "A festival? A real one?"

Laughing, I pick him up. I remember that is has been a long time since his people could freely hold festivals. "A real festival. There will be food and dancing…" My list continues as I whirl Lucan around the room.

"Dagonet!" Lucan cries suddenly in my ear. He squirms free of my arms and bolts to the door where Dagonet stands. There he is, filthy from that days training session. "Ewww…" Lucan groans as he pulls away. Now both are covered in grime.

Sighing I say, "I'll make a bath up." I hurry away before the both of them decide to pull a trick on me. Once the bath is ready, I call for them, dreading what they may have contrived in my absence. They stare at the bath as though they have never seen one before. "Oh, get in while I fetch some towels," I mutter, the slightest bit flustered.

My food is preparing wonderfully; everything shall be perfect for tonight. It shall be a night to remember. Gathering up the towels, I head back to the bedroom where the bath is. Surprisingly, they have managed to get themselves into the bath with little complication. However, there are mischievous grins spreading across their faces.

"Dag, Lucan, what's…" I barely have time to finish my question as Dagonet takes me by the waist and pulls me into the tub, fully clothed.

"Why should you miss all the fun?" is his cheeky reply to my cry of surprise.

Next I feel warm soapy water being poured over my head. "Got to be clean," Lucan scolds.

"Fainne? Are you home?" Guinevere calls from the main room of my little three room home.

"Goddess save me," I breathe to the air. I crawl out of the tub, my dignity slightly dented. It should be interesting facing Guinevere.

"Where…" Guinevere comes to the door of the bedroom. "Oh, I hope I'm not disturbing…" Her voice is full on innuendo.

"Not at all. Do not let your mind run away." As she stands before me, I can see the rounding of her belly beneath her gown. She was very upset with me when I told her that she has to limit how much training she does. But, when she realized that it is for the well being of the baby, she conceded to follow my instruction.

"I just wanted to make sure that you and Lucan are coming to the festival tonight." Absently, she rubs her belly while she speaks.

I smile at her. "Would not miss it. I have some food prepared for the feast."

"Just remember," she said with a wicked smile, "to wear something nice. You never know who might be there." She looks meaningfully at Dagonet.

I shove Guinevere out of my home. "Enough of your girlish thoughts! I'll see you tonight. Don't forget… you need to tell your people about the baby!" She groans in response as she walks away.

The rest of the day progresses with little interruption. The only disturbance that ruins a perfectly quiet afternoon at home is the Knights coming by, demanding that I wash their clothes for the festival. It is a laughable thing; a group of Knights who are unable to do their own laundry.

I smile to myself as I open my small chest that sits tucked in the corner of my bedroom. It holds the few dresses that I own. They are by no means fancy; just the serviceable garb of a healer. But from the bottom of the chest, I remove my most prized dress. It is a festival dress, designed in the style of my people. It is a light blue halter style dress, made from a flowing material. It betrays me for what I am; a young woman. Nonetheless, I will wear it, for tonight is a festival. Besides, I am allowed my moments of selfishness. I am not a Christian woman; there is no need for me to be completely covered.

Girlish excitement fills me as I make my way to the open field. Night has fallen and bonfires and table candles provide a shimmering and seductive light.

"Fainne!" Galahad calls.

"Well, don't you look tempting," Lancelot says.

"Bloody womanizing bastard," I mutter to myself. Tristan laughs at my comment. However, I do speak the truth concerning the matter.

"Come, have a drink!" Bors calls from beside one of the ale barrels.

"Mathair, come here." Lucan beckons me to a table. Unknowingly, he has saved me from more persecution from the Knights.

"Maybe later, Bors," I reply.

My table is that of Arthur, Guinevere and the Knights. Even Lucan is allowed to dine with us. As I sit beside Dagonet, I wonder what I have done to deserve this. But I am not allowed to dwell in my thoughts because there is too much interesting conversation being bantered about the table. I am overwhelmed by the amount of food being passed about. I try my hardest to keep Lucan from eating too much.

Towards the end of the wonderful meal, Guinevere stands. I notice that she has taken great care to conceal her growing belly. Does she not understand that bearing a child is a gift to be proud of? Even Arthur is being overly careful with her.

"Everyone," Guinevere begins. "I have an announcement." A collective breath is held. "A month ago, my dear friend Fainne told me some news…"

Foolish girl! How dare she drag me into this. It should be her moment to bask in glory.

"She told me that…" Guinevere paused, seemingly unable to continue. I am not surprised. She talks as though I told her that she has only a few months to live. Suddenly she bursts out, "I'm going to have a baby."

The collective breath is released into cheers. She had all of these poor people worried. As the night wears on, there are many toasts to Guinevere's good health. The dancing is riotous, the music thunderous, and the drink flows like a river. When Lucan begins to fall asleep, I send him home with Vanora's children.

One by one, the Knights either fall into a drunken stupor or go off with a girl while in said drunken stupor. I and a few elder women are left to clean up after the revelers. In the middle of my cleaning, Dagonet appears after a noticeable absence from the festival's activity. Even he is not so opposed to entertainment. I look at him quizzically.

His answer is simple, as always. "Gawain was too drunk to get home." He stands there watching me as I scrub a table clean. "Fainne, come with me."

It is not an order, but a request. I have a duty to finish my chore, how can I leave? I look at the elder women. They dismiss me, knowing looks in their eyes.

Dagonet takes me by the hand and leads me along. We move away from the bonfires and allow the moonlight to guide us.

"Where are…?"

"Sh, sh," Dagonet silences me. "Just follow."

I willingly follow; I would follow him anywhere. Then I realize where we are. He has brought me to the grove; the little grove we call our own. On a flat stone there sits a single candle and a ceremonial cup of spiced wine. Now I am confused. What in the name of the Mother Goddess is he planning?

Dagonet gives me his half smile that I have come to love. He pulls me close, caressing the curls of my hair. "Blessed Midsummer," he says before placing a kiss on my lips.

There is something different tonight; something that I know only from tales of the past. Here, in this grove that we have come to call our own, I feel myself standing on the brink of change. Anticipation grips me as I wonder what Dagonet it playing at. It is unlike him to keep secrets from me.

Standing in the circle of his strong arms that have kept me safe from so much, I surrender myself to his kiss. There is hunger, but there is also something deeper. Looking into his eyes, I find my answer; love.

"Fainne," he murmurs. "Marry me?"

His question is so gentle, and my heart leaps in joy. Blessed Mother! I never thought this would come to me. I look Dagonet firmly in the eye, refusing to break contact. "Yes," is my simple answer to his simple question. We are not the type of people to complicate things with circuitous questions and answers.

We surrender ourselves to the night. In the silver moonlight, our skin bare skin shimmers as our bodies join together. As we are not the polite folk, our marriage is different. It is the traditional joining; no "wedding ceremony" with feasts, just the private one we make together. Our wedding is the two of us, showing our love in the most intimae of ways. It is an ancient dance between the two of us; pleasure gripping at us, completing weeks of distance and frustration.

As I lay beside him later, I realize that I have been blessed. Three times three the Fates run. I curl up to his solid body under the blanket he brought out. He places a kiss on my brow as I fall asleep beside him. Dagonet, my husband.


	9. Part Nine

**Part Nine**

**A/N: **Sorry, it's been a while… things have gotten wickedly crazy around here. But anywho, I would like to take this opportunity to thank my faithful reviewers. Your input is highly appreciated. To: Barbara of the Tea, Julianna Edwards, Quinn, PhoenixFyre, Mustang Gal, Spectral Lady, and starnat; thank you so very much.

To my new reviewers… WELCOME! You are always appreciated. To: Amirra, camlann:op, and Celtic Fairy; thank you for your wonderful reviews!

Another little note, camlann noticed that I had Lucan say that Tristan was dead when I then proceeded to have him say something in Part 7 or 8. Here is my explanation… it's my bad… I meant to have that say that Lucan thought that Tristan was dead, when in fact he was just refusing medical treatment. Oops! Sorry about that folks!

Enough of my drivel… on with what you really want to read.

**Part Nine**

I will admit that, for the next few days, there was a certain glow about me. I could not help but be in the best of spirits. There was a perpetual smile affixed to my face. Even Dagonet, I noticed, smiled a bit wider. Lucan perhaps, is the most excited of the three of us; he now has a real family.

One warm night, we are at the tavern, partaking in our usual nightly ritual with the other Knights. It is still early, so everyone is still sober. Perhaps tonight Dagonet and I can explain things to them; before they get drunk.

Gawain turns his head to look at me. I sit beside Dagonet, mending a shirt he managed to tatter while on a scouting mission for Arthur. "Your sewing can't be that exciting," Gawain taunts.

"Why are you all smiles lately?" Galahad asks. "And what's gotten into you, Dag?"

Poor Galahad is already slightly drunk. And he is only on his third drink.

"Maybe Fainne's been seeing Lancelot at night?" Gawain mused.

"If she has, where have I been?" Lancelot questions, his honor slightly sullied. Only Lancelot would take offense to not remembering whom he has bedded.

So many theories and not a single right answer. How can they be so blind? The truth is right in front of them and they do not even notice it. How are we supposed to explain this to them? I look at Dagonet who puts his arm around me in comfort. They all seem to miss this outward display.

I see Tristan's eyes squint in calculation. "There's something going on." Maybe I was wrong; they are all blind except for Tristan.

Galahad groans in exasperation at the scout. "Why must you speak in bloody riddles? It tells us nothing!"

"Enough." Dagonet's calm but firm tone quells the impending argument. "Tristan is right." He turns to Lancelot. "Find Arthur and Guinevere." Everyone looks at him, questions gleaming bright in their eyes. "Something must be explained."

"Oh, now Dagonet's speaking in those bloody riddles," Galahad slurs. The boy could never hold his liquor well.

"Vanora," I call. "Round up Bors from whatever ale barrel he's in." It was either now or never. Goddess do not let my courage fail.

Quietly Dagonet asks me, "Do you want to do it, or should I?"

"Maybe you should." Right now, I feel as though that if I try to speak, I might pass out. Everyone has assembled now, and quite honestly, I feel as though I am a lamb at slaughter. I tremble slightly, my fears known only to myself and Dagonet who holds me close.

Finally, Dagonet stands, ready to begin. While he speaks, I keep his hand clutched in mine. "There is really only one thing to explain. On Midsummer, Fainne and I were married."

That simple phrase caused quite a ruckus in the gathered assembly.

"What? When did you… how did…" A flurry of questions is thrown at us from all the Knights. Eventually, Bors gathers enough words together to from a coherent thought. "You got married without us! How long has this been going on behind our backs?"

"Since about the time of Arthur and Guinevere's wedding, officially." I surprised even myself with the confidence in my voice.

Bors continued. "There wasn't even a party for me to get drunk at?" He sounded almost disappointed.

"We were married in the traditions of Fainne's people," Dagonet explained. "A private, personal ceremony."

"Then let us celebrate now," Arthur said. He always likes to play the mediator. How he always has the bigger picture in mind is beyond me. Raising his cup ale he says, "A toast to the enduring love and happiness of Fainne and Dagonet."

So, without either of us really wanting one, we are given a wedding ceremony so that the village may acknowledge our union. I overhear Bors complaining that he really will need to marry Vanora.

"Now I can't tell you wedding night secrets," Vanora laments.

"I heard enough when you were telling them all to Guinevere. I was there helping her get ready as well you know. The whole village could have heard you." I give Vanora a companionable shove. Then I look pointedly at Guinevere. "I think you scared the poor lass with all of your tales and tips."

"She did not!" Guinevere protests. Vanora and I look at the younger woman. "Alright," she concedes, "maybe you did a little."

Slowly, the summer began to wind down, preparing everyone for the coming of Autumn. The harvest shall be coming in soon, keeping everyone busy with work. Arthur is keeping his Knights busy by going on scouting excursions to monitor any activity away form the Wall. I see Lucan eagerly awaiting the day when he will be able to join his father and uncles on one of their missions.

On one brisk Autumn day, when the cooler winds begin to move in form the North, Vanora, Guinevere, and myself are lazing about the tavern, with nothing to do. All the work of the day has been done with surprising speed, even though Guinevere did complain that she is so big that she can barely move. I must interject that she is only in her sixth moon and still has quite a ways to go before she is considered even remotely useless.

"It is so dull without the men here," Vanora sighs into her cup of ale. "But, when they get here, the place is turned upside-down."

Absently I finger one of my auburn curls. "It is strange how our lives center around the comings and goings of the Knights." In my village, there was always something to be done; the movement of warriors from day to day was nothing unusual. But then again, they did not come home as often as out Sarmatian Knights do.

"Tell us about you homeland," Guinevere says suddenly. "You've never said a word about it to us before."

"Do you really want to know?" I had been hoping to avoid this subject. While there are good memories associated with home, there are also evil ones. Put on the spot now, I am unsure of where to begin, if there is a true beginning. Adopting the stance of a village elder, I begin my thoughts of home. "I come from the Western Isle known as Hibernia to the Romans. But my people call it Erin or Eire, depending on what clan you hail from. My village resides on the Western shore of that land; my clan is known as the O'Turlach meaning one who helps." I pause for a moment, remembering the people of my clan. "In my clan's lands, everything is bathed in the most brilliant greens along the sloping hills and deep forests. The village was on a hill, overlooking the shore. Oh the storms we endured on that shore!" I watch as Vanora and Guinevere's eyes grow wide at my descriptions. Now I know I must begin with the worst parts. "But everything is not as picturesque as it sounds. The clans in the land war constantly, bringing much grief to my people. Then, the Romans came." As I speak of these memories, my voice begins to falter.

Guinevere looks as though she wants to press me for more. But her questions are stayed by Vanora who knows better than to push me. "Have a rink," she says, pressing a cup into my hand.

"Mathair, the Knights have returned!" Lucan's call shatters the awkward silence that has followed my partial tale. He runs over, seizes my hand and begins to drag me to the gated courtyard where the Knights gather after they return.

There is much bustling activity there. It seems as though they are preparing to leave again by the way they act. There is resoluteness to them as they replenish saddle bags. Where could they be going so soon? I seek Dagonet out for answers. I find him in the stables feeding his horse.

"Dag, what is going on? Are you leaving again?"

"There are raiders on our Western shore. Arthur is gathering a small army to quell them." While he speaks, he goes about his normal routine of preparation. It is so mechanical; too many years of doing the same thing every day.

"Raiders to the West?" My mind reels with this news. My people are invading. My soul is filled with a deep sense of foreboding.

"We leave at first light." He turns around to face me. "The raiders…" he stops in mid-sentence as though he has just realized something. "…are your people" he finishes slowly.

"Do not pity me," I snap. "Little keeps me bound to them." I speak the truth; nothing does except for a language that I cannot use and my religion.

From the Wall comes the sound of the summoning horn. "We leave now." So much for leaving at first light. Dagonet studies my face closely. I am sure that he can read the sadness there. "I promise that I will return. By your mark I will return." He lowers the collar of his shirt to reveal the Trinity that I had given so long ago.

As the Knights ride off to the West, I stand with Lucan on my hip with Vanora and her brood and Guinevere standing beside me. "Now we wait," is all Vanora will say. Our day is subdued by the departure of the Knights and night does not fall soon enough.

I am unable to sleep this night. There is something that disturbs my desire to crawl into bed to mourn my loneliness. Pulling my boots on and throwing Dagonet's cloak over my thin shift, I decide to take a walk to clear my mind. There is a sense of wariness that hangs thick in the air.

"Mathair, I can't sleep." Lucan has joined me where I stand a few short paces from our home.

"Come walk-" I barely begin my sentence as the night sky is suddenly illuminated with a rain of flames. I dash back inside and grab Lucan's cloak. "Quickly, to Vanora's!" We dash across the field to Vanora's home, hoping that we are not seen by those who wish to disturb our night. "Vanora, open this door!"

"What the bloody…" her eyes widen as she sees the sight behind me. "Kids!" she hollers, "get a move on!" She turns back to me. "We must get to the fortress… there is a room that Jols has us hide in whenever there is an attack." Scooping up her youngest, she leads the way. I stay to the back, acting as a rear guard.

Silently we make our way towards the fortress. All around us people are running about scared, screaming and crying for lost family members. From the trees, our ambushers begin to move in, screaming their battle cry. Blades glint in the light, creating a chilling atmosphere. The ambushers are formidable fighters covered in earthy colors. They hew any who stand in their path. Our pace increases as we near the small hidden entrance in the side of the fortress. Jols stands at it, ushering villagers in. He beckons us to hurry.

Suddenly, I am grabbed from behind. Jols makes a move to come and help, but I signal him to not do so. It is more important that he helps the ones who can still make it. "Vanora, move! Protect the children." I struggle against my attacker as Lucan's cries penetrate my ears. I throw a few well aimed kicks, but my captor is too strong.

"Not now my little dove," the captor hisses in my ear. "You are wanted."

"By whom?" I demand even though I am in no position to do so.

"Ciaran O'Turlach, my noble commander."

One of my own kinsmen? This cannot bode well. There is something familiar about this name. "Goddess save me," I mutter before I back out.

**A/N: **Here's just a short little note… Ciaran is pronounced "keer-awn" and it means "little dark one." O'Turlach is pronounced "o-tur-la" and it does indeed mean "one who helps." It actually was a little clan in Ireland in the early 300s A.D. known as the O'Turlachs. And, just so you are all aware, the new rating will be kicking in on the next installment. Hope you enjoyed! Toodles!


	10. Part Ten

**Part Ten**

**A/N: **To everyone: thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! I love you all! I realize that this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but it serves a very important role: to explain the many complex feelings that Fainne will be dealing with for most of the rest of the story. I'm trying to make her as real as I possibly can so I can avoid any straying into Mary-Sue-dom. Please tell me what you think of this!

And now, our regularly scheduled program…

**Part Ten**

My head reels with so many confusing thoughts. The last thing I clearly recall is being told that I am being taken to Ciaran O'Turlach. For what reason I have no inkling. What have I done to deserve this? I only recognize that name because it marks him as a kinsman. My head feels as though it shall explode if I think in this any longer.

"Get moving, wench," my captor barks while giving me a swift kick in the side.

A cry escapes my lips while my stomach threatens to rebel against this cruel torment. This is worrisome to me because battle wounds and the like have no affect on me. In my state of worry, the guard has found it a nice time to bind me with chains and shackles. I struggle to stand with these new impediments, and I am laughed at by the warriors.

My captor gives a sharp tug on the chain and I am pulled forward. I stumble causing more laughter. Goddess, why must they torment me so?

As our journey progresses, I lose count of the days that pass. My cuffs bite deep, leaving angry marks that bleed and chafe terribly. More than once I have retched on the side of the path; for reasons that still haunt me. There is little comfort in hearing my native tongue spoken around me. I could find more comfort in the predatory growl of a wolf.

One blessed day, the march is halted for a rest. My chains are secured by a stake in the ground, forbidding me to go anywhere. It would do me no good to try and escape. I have no idea of where I am.

A warrior gruffly tosses a hunk of stale bread at me. "Eat; Ciaran wants you alive."

Harsh retorts jump to my lips nut I keep them silent. It would do me no good to voice them. Curling into Dagonet's cloak, which they have not taken away from me, I try to hide from the biting cold. Unsure whether to scream or cry, my thoughts begin to drift; I wonder if Lucan is being cared for? Has Dagonet returned from his mission with Arthur? Salty tears slide down my cheeks while I think of the family that I have been torn away from.

"Remember, I will still be here As long as you hold me In your memory Remember me…" (Josh Groban-"Remember")

"Shut your trap," a guard snaps. I had not realized that I had been singing.

Sitting here on this frozen patch of dirt, I have time to think; too much time to be honest. My mind runs away with wild ideas and creates horrid situations that I fear to be reality. But perhaps I can use this time to think logically, keep my mind keen. So, I decide to figure out what is the matter with me. Travel never bothered me, and why should the abuse that these men give have this effect? I try to recall further. I have not eaten anything that should cause my stomach upset, so what…?

Oh Mother no.

Things have just gotten worse. They can even get worse after this, of this I am sure.

Why, in the middle of no where, with no chance of escape, why must I realize now of all times that I am with child? How does this make any sense? I count the days back from when I last had my moon blood. It should be now, but it has not come. If these people find out, Goddess knows what they may do. Every moment of the rest of this journey, I run the risk of harming the growing child, Dagonet's child, our child. I will not cast the child out; I could never do such a thing. I am a healer, I protect life, not destroy it.

I dissolve into tears of self pity which earn me a few lashes across my back. Warm blood flows freely from the open wounds, staining the tattered dress. My own countrymen have turned into brutal strangers. Where are the Celts that hold things like music and peace dear in their hearts? Have they all fallen into memory? I have become weak in the face of adversity. My mother would be ashamed if she could see me now. Her spirit must watch me now from Tir na nOg, hiding her face in shame to have such a weak daughter.

A glimmer of a resolution begins to form in my mind, growing ever stronger the more I think on it. If I am to survive this and protect my child, I must be strong. I shall honor my ancestors by standing tall and facing my fears. What kind of wife would I be to a Knight if I cowered at every little bit of violence? I may not be the strongest woman in the land, but I can still try my best. Hope has now found a place in my heart again.

"Come along now, wench," my guard says while taking the stake out of the ground. "Almost there, just a few more leagues."

No wonder we were allowed that precious rest. We are nearing our destination. As the day progresses the landscape changes, signaling that we are nearing a new section on land, possibly a shore. Reaching the suggested shore, the sounds of intense battle reach my ears.

Wait, Arthur and the Knights were going to the Western shore because of Celtic raiders. This battle must have served as a distraction so the others could attack the Wall to find me. But, what does that make me; a hostage or a prisoner of war? Surely they do not know my involvement with the Knights? How could they, for I am one of the very few Celts who reside in Britain. Why must everything be so unclear? I just want to go home and safely give birth to my child in a few moons time.

The group of Celtic raiders that I am with makes their entrance behind the lines of battle. Gazing across the open field, I see the Knights slaughtering my countrymen. I feel nothing as I watch this. I no longer know my own people; they are savage strangers, the people the Romans believed them to be.

Struggling against my bonds, I try a desperate attempt at escape. Three of the raiders leap at me, holding me back. This does not stop my resolve to be reunited with my family. "DAGONET!" My cry tears across the battlefield. Everything seems to stop as everyone observes a captive woman struggling to escape.

Blows rain down on my body as I scream again, "DAGONET!" These men try desperately to silence me with their abuse. I curl into a defensive ball to protect the child within me.

"FAINNE!"

I hear Dagonet's cry across the distance. I glance upward to see him rushing forward, a look of sheer determination on his face. The other Knightsfollow, for they too love me as a sister. The cut anything down that stands in their path.

"Get her on the ship," someone orders. "MOVE OUT!"

Four men tug at my chains as I struggle like a wild thing. I ignore the fresh wounds that I gain on my wrists and ankles. I am no longer aware of what I do while I struggle. Eventually, the four men overwhelm me with varying degrees of physical abuse. My body aches and I bleed furiously. Goddess curse them.

"Dagonet…" I whisper as I take a long last look at him. I fear that I may never see him again.

The raiders have withdrawn onto the ship. Arthur and the Knights stand helplessly on the shore, cursing their situation. Out of anger, Dagonet lets a dagger fly through the air which sinks deep into the side of the ship. Unceremoniously, I am thrown into the filthy hold. I have no idea of where I am being taken, but I have an idea. Wrapping Dagonet's cloak around me, I cry silent tears as I fall into a fitful slumber.


	11. Part Eleven

**Part Eleven**

**A/N: **I'm back! With another chapter! Isn't this wonderful? Sorry for the delay, but I was out of town on a trip and did not have access to a computer. And let me tell you, 26 hour bus ride takes a lot out of you. Allow me to give you a little tidbit about this chapter. It will begin to discuss something that you all have been screaming at me to do for a while…. Fainne's past. More will come in the next chapter.

And not time for me to extend my thanks.

To my faithful reviewers whose support never wanes: Amirra, camlann, Mustang Gal, Quinn, Julianna Edwards, Barbara of the Tea, PhoenixFyre, and SpectralLady. I love you all so much for the wonderful reviews you leave.

To my new reviewers: Warrior-princess, KnightMaiden, Evenstar-mor2004, Tracy137, and abeldina. Thank you for reading and leaving a review. I love to hear from new reviewers. You are always welcome and I look forward to seeing you under my list of faithfuls. Hope this is good enough for you!

And now on with this little epic of life…

**Part Eleven**

The ship that carries me tosses wildly in the sea. In my corner of its filthy hold, I try to ignore the lurching of my stomach each time the ship moves. It is horrible to spend all of my days down here where there is no sunlight or fresh air. My mind shows me tempting visions of the open areas around Hadrian's Wall. Why must my mind torture me so? Only once have I been brought above decks to stretch my limbs. The days pass by slowly, each longer than the first.

"Well hello my little dove," my captor says one day. "Are ye enjoying our little journey?"

"Delightful," I reply. Immediately after I say this I back down for fear of retribution.

"Feisty, are ye?" The man moves closer. He reeks of stale ale and the salt of the sea. He is absolutely too close to me. I begin to move away, but he catches my arm. "I wonder what Ciaran wants with ye. Ye are no great beauty, and it looks as though ye've been working…"

I pray that he would not get any closer. Goddess strike him down if he dares touch me. Even after all of my time with the Knights, I am still wary when men get too close to me.

"Bring her up," a voice from above calls.

My captor takes my chains and begins to drag me up. The sea salt that splashes me burns my open wounds that I have not been able to treat properly. I breathe in sharply as the pain persists.

"Recognize this port?" the commander remarks offhandedly.

Indeed I do. Though I have not seen it for many a year, I know it to be the port on the Western shore of Eire, the one near the home of my clan. But why have we sailed all the way around Eire when there is a beautiful port at Dubh Lein, just across from Britain? The port we pull into now it one for the small fishing villages that dot the Western shores.

"Come along, wretch. Ye still have a fortnights march to endure." The commander looks at me closely. "Don't understand why Ciaran's bothering with ye. That Queen, Guinevere I believe, now there was a beauty."

"Guinevere would kill you before you even thought about touching her." My words are sharp, hoping to feint them into believing that I am stronger than I appear. What a laughable thing; never once have I wielded a weapon.

"Shut up and get moving." The commander, who I later learned is named Dairmond, throws the company into a heavy march. For an entire fortnight we move across the once familiar green fields and thick forests of Eire. More than once did I feel the bite of the leather whip across my back for slowing down. Finally we reached the stronghold of Ciaran O'Turlach.

It is by no means Hadrian's Wall. This is a labyrinth nestled on the only solid piece of swampland. To reach the entrance, we have to take a very complex and careful path. I am blindfolded so that I may not know which way I am being taken across the swamp.

My signal that we have reached solid land came in the form of sighs of relief from the other raiders.

"Don't understand why Ciaran insisted on building his hold here," one raider remarks.

"I've lost too many comrades on these cursed pathways," another states with a hint of sadness in his voice.

It is ironic; here amongst these hard raiders are a few who lament the loss of friends. I allow myself to think upon my friends for a moment; the Knights, Vanora and her children, Lucan and Dagonet. For them I must be strong.

Dairmond tugs at my chains. "Come along now. Don't tarry; Ciaran is not a patient man."

Again the blindfold envelopes me and puts me at the mercy of my captors. They lead me across the second set of twisting pathways to reach the hold. There are so many twists that I am sure that even Tristan would get lost. Eventually, my feet meet the blessed solid earth that I have longed for. I bless the Goddess for seeing me safely.

Dairmond removes the cloth from my eyes and casually remarks in his way, "Welcome to Dubh Seascann, home of our master, Ciaran O'Turlach. Enjoy your stay."

The place certainly lives up to its name as the Black Swamp. Everything is so dark, that even the green moss that covers the walls seems out of place. As I make my way along the tomb like halls, I feel as though the earth is going to swallow me whole. Every once and a while the dark stone walls are broken by a formidable oak door. Goddess only knows what may lie behind them. My blood pounds in my veins, fear beginning to take hold of my heart.

We stop at a set of oak doors that are adorned by iron work. Dairmond looks at me with the slightest bit of sympathy. "Ciaran waits inside for ye." He pauses for a moment, almost seeming to want to say more but does not.

The guards that brought me here with Dairmond leave me to stand alone. Here in this hallway I have never felt so isolated in my life. Since coming to know the Knights, I have forgotten the loneliness I had lived in prior. Straightening my spine, I gather my courage and chains and push open the doors. The creak on their hinges to reveal a dim hall lit by a scarce few candles.

Slowly I make my way through the hall. My footfalls have an eerie echo that chills my blood. The chains about my person add to the chilling emptiness in the hall. After agonizing moments, I reach the dais and the man waiting there.

"Ah, welcome home Fainne. How was you journey?" The man steps forward so that the candle illuminates his features.

I freeze in terror. Now I understand why the name Ciaran O'Turlach sounds so bloody familiar. Standing before me is the man my father had promised me to.

"Ye don't seem happy to see me, Fainne."

"What do you want of me Ciaran?" I refuse to meet his eyes, for fear of what I might find there. Truth be told, I am petrified of being even these few feet close to him. Ciaran is the entire reason why I have feared the male race for so long.

"I want what was promised to me by your father!" He glares at me from the dais he stands on. "Ye were supposed to be my wife! But ye had the gall to run away! But now that I have found ye, I shall claim what has been denied to me."

My eyes narrow in a defiant glare of ice. "I am not yours! You have no right to me. I had a very good reason for running away!" Years of silent anger and anguish began to fill my voice. "You abused me at every turn. Not once did you even try to love me. All you wanted was a warm body to warm your bed. Call me weak, call me cowardly, call me whatever, but I ran away to save myself. That was the best decision I ever made in that time."

"Bitch," Ciaran hisses. "Ye are MINE! I alone my lay claim to ye. And I have brought ye back to make that claim."

"You may not make this claim." My gaze is hard and forceful as I speak the truth to him. "Another has claimed me. I am his and he is mine. Even you cannot deny a marriage that was made in the Old Ways. Even now I carry his child. You know the curses that would befall you if you tired to claim me or harm a child made in love." I hold Ciaran's eyes for a long moment. "I know you have not forgotten the Old Ways. They are still alive here, even if the Christians are moving into Britain."

"Witch!" he screams. "How dare you deny me what is mine! I will have you!"

I close my eyes and invoke one of the oldest curses. "Goddess Mother I call upon thee to hear my plea. If this man, Ciaran O'Turlach so harms my child or me, let the curse fall in the fold of three. What he may do to babe or me, will come back three times three. This I will, so mote it be!" My voice resounds in the hall as I chant this three times. I know I frighten him; he knows the Old Ways.

"Guards, lock her up!" Ciaran cries. "I will have ye yet, just wait."

**A/N: **Just me again. If any of you who are not members wish for me to alert you to when I post, just give me your email and I'll be glad to send you a little note. You can leave it in the review or send me an email with the heading, "fic alerts" My email address is Toodles!


	12. Part Twelve

**Part Twelve**

**A/N: **Here we go again. Another chapter! In the same week! That's a first for me. But, time to thank my reviewers! To: Warrior-princess, Evenstar-mor2004, Mustang Gal, PhoenixFyre, camlann, starnat, Tracy137, Amirra, Twilight Eternal, SpectralLady, and Barbara of the Tea. My deepest thanks to you all!

Oh, just a side note. The curse I used in pt 11 is an original work based upon the real Druidic Three Fold Curse. As a follower of the Druid faith myself, I found it suiting that I should use it because Fainne is also of the Druid faith. And, since many of you have asked, I am Irish. Moreover, I can trace my roots to one of the most ancient Celtic Clans of Ireland.

But I divulge…. On with the story!

**Part Twelve**

When I awake, my head throbs. Carefully I feel my head and find a bloody bump at the back where I believe I was struck. That is going to hurt for a while. My hand then flies to my belly to check on the child. Nothing seems to be wrong. My head clear of preoccupation; I can now observe where I have been thrown my Ciaran.

Everything is almost devoid of light. There is a small oil lamp that hangs out in the hall casting a feeble glow. This place reeks of mold and rotting corpses. My nose crinkles in disgust. The aftermath of the battle on Badon Hill smelled like a field of flowers compared to this stench. The floor I sit on is hard earth, scattered with a bit of moldy straw.

My hand unconsciously rubs my belly. If my reckoning is right, the child should be here around Beltane. Just my luck to carry a child through the bitter winter months of Erie. My thoughts then stray to Guinevere; she is to bear her child around Imbolc.

Curling into a corner to avoid a draft, I examine what I have become. I speak aloud, not caring if the walls hear my secrets. "Fainne Senara O'Turlach, you are a mess," I chide myself. "You have become weak, shrinking from hard times. When you were captured by the Romans, you never weakened like this. What would Dagonet say? Or would you rather hide behind your husband instead of standing tall beside him?" I pause my personal rant as I realize what I am saying to myself. "My mother would be ashamed…"

"I am ashamed." A stern voice cuts through the darkness.

"Mathair?' I murmur.

"Aye, iníon, it's me." She moves toward me from the corner that she had been in.

"But, I thought you had died…" My mouth still asked the question even though I knew her solid, earthly body was sitting before me. She still had her fire red curls, the O'Turlach blue eyes, and the same milk white skin as me.

She looks at me closely. "Iníon, I am your mother, Aíne Senara O'Turlach. It takes more than a simple village raid to kill me. Nay, I was captured by Ciaran around the time you ran away. He thought I knew where you had gone." She sits back on her heels and regards me. "Now, if what ye say and what the guards say is true, I have every reason in this blessed Earth to be ashamed to call you my iníon."

"I broke the promise, mathair. I did nothing to make you proud." My head hangs in shame. Something inside me longs for her to strike me across my head. The last thing my mother had told me before I ran away was to make her proud.

"Ye have broken the promise, but not entirely. Ye have done some things to make me proud. For one, ye have survived. Secondly, it seems that ye have married an honorable man and willingly bear his child." Aíne reaches out and tucks a stand of auburn curls behind my ear. "Fainne, ye are my iníon. Nothing ye do can change how much I love you."

Leave it to my mother to show me that I'm being selfish and stupid. But, she is from a great line of warrior women. They all are willing to show you the truth. "Mum, was it a disappointment for you when you realized that I would not follow the line?"

"At first, yes. But then as I watched you grow I realized that your path lay elsewhere. Our clan village was filled with girls eager to become a great warrior. While they shirked their chores, you were there, doing yours and theirs without complaint. You even cared for the village children whose parents had other things to tend to. Besides, we had your elder brother Ronan to be the warrior in the family." My mother's voice held a hint of sadness while she remembers Ronan.

But I wanted more answers. "Then why did you allow Father to promise me Ciaran?" This is a question that has haunted me for years.

"He had us all fooled. I believe that you were the only one in the entire village that ever saw him for what he truly is." Aíne's eyes cloud in anguish. "Had I known, I never would have agreed to the match. Foolish of me to deny the Old Ways of not allowing you to choose your own husband.

I yawn widely, suddenly aware of how tired I am. I pull Dagonet's cloak close, longing to be safely wrapped in his arms.

Aíne comes over and smoothes my stubborn curls away. "Sleep, a chroí. We will have plenty of opportunities to speak later."

The passing of time is documented by the wounds on my body and my growing belly. Ciaran has ignored the Three Fold Laws in his hopes of having me miscarry the child. Each time I am returned to the cell, Aíne rants and raves and fusses over me. She curses Ciaran for his stupidity, each time declaring loudly that to bear a child is a blessing. Each time she does this I must remind her that yelling will do us both no good.

On the day of Imbolc, my mother and I hold a vigil in honor of Guinevere. We pray to Brigid, the Goddess of Healing that Guinevere will bear her child safely. Though we do not know for certain, our hearts tell us that she has borne her child by the end of the night.

The winter is bitter down her in these drafty dungeons. Once and awhile a guard will pity us and build us a small fire while he is on duty. Sometimes we even get some warm stew instead of a hard bread crust for supper if the guard is benevolent. We pass the long hours telling stories and learning what has befallen the other during our years apart. When my mother tells me that many of our clan were killed in the village raid supported by Ciaran I weep. My clans-people were good people; we only fought to protect.

One day, Mother brought up Ronan, a subject still sore for the both of us. "Ronan, I believe, has joined the Finna. We rarely see him anymore. He's always off fighting somewhere…" Aíne's eyes hold a far-off gaze while she thinks on my elder brother. From what I remember of him, he was a caring young man, trying to fix the injustice around him. She turns her attention back to me. "But tell me Fainne, what of your husband? Ye have barely mentioned a word about him!"

I give a half laugh. I have been trying to avoid broaching this subject for fear of the pain it may cause me. However, after listening to my mother tell of the strife our village faced, I realize that my own little story is no where near as horrible. "If I mention him, I must mention the entire family! You cannot mention one without the others. Dagonet is the name of my husband. He is a Knight of Arthur's and of Sarmatia. Dag is the most caring man that I have ever met. We have a son, Lucan, who is about eight." My mother's eyes widen at this statement. "Don't fret, mum. He is an orphan who adopted us…" For the duration of the day I speak of my family in Britain.

"I must meet this Vanora," my mother says between laughs. "She seems like a formidable woman who could do some damage with a fry pan!"

Our mother-daughter moment is ruined by the entrance of Ciaran. "Well what do we have here? A little family time?"

"Since this is family time, I suggest you leave," I blatantly state.

Ciaran's hand strikes my cheek. "SHUT UP!" He stalks about the cell, obviously pissed about something.

"Sit down, take a load off…" The glare he sends me it full of poison.

"I would be careful of what ye say, wench. It may be the difference between life and death for you." He grabs the back of my head. "Once that child is born, you are mine!"

I meet his eyes. "I will never be yours. I belong to a man far greater than you." I then proceed to spit in his face. This earns me a lash across my back.

Ciaran's attention then turns to my mother who has been sitting quietly in a corner. "What, the famous Aíne O'Turlach, Warrior of Erie, is not coming to her daughter's rescue?" Ciaran scoffed at her. "Shows what kind of woman you are." He releases me and stalks around my mother. "Remember what I told you." This is all he says before he leaves us.

Many of our peaceful days in the dungeon are like that. I am never able to ask Aíne what Ciaran meant because she always avoids the subject. Winter is fading, making way for Spring. Oh the joyous Spring. It reminds me of Arthur and Guinevere's wedding and when Dagonet and I first realized our love. It makes me sigh to remember these sweet memories.

My belly has grown huge, reminding me that Beltane is close. My mother only smiles at me knowingly. It is almost as though she laughs at me each time she smiles. I roll my eyes at her childishly, ruing the day I was placed in these Goddess forsaken dungeons. The only good thing that has come with me nearing my time is that Ciaran no longer comes near me. It is a relief to not feel the bite of a whip on my back for once.

I stand by the small grate feeling the cool Spring air on my face. It is refreshing to smell the wild flowers in the air instead of mold and rotting corpses. Suddenly, a pain sears through my body. It is so intense that I almost fall to the ground. I give a cry of surprise that has my mother running towards me.

"Iníon, what is the matter?"

"There's… so… much… pain," I manage to explain between clenched teeth.

"Congratulations Fainne. It's time for your child to join us."

Mother eases me to the ground near the grating. I insist on having the cool breeze on my face. My braided hair is released and all of the other knots are undone. This is an old tradition so that the cord will not wrap around the child's neck, causing death. The contractions cause my stomach to ripple under the skin. I know not how many hours I lay here, sweating and cursing everything I know. Sometime in the middle of the night, my mother deems it time.

"Fainne, you need to sit up, sweets. When you feel ready, give a mighty push."

She makes it seem so simple. I feel as though I am being torn in half. Next time I see Dagonet, he is going to get a piece of my mind. I have no idea how Vanora can deal with this so often. "The babe is crowning!" My mother cries out in excitement. Gathering my strength, I give a mighty push. I feel the babe slide out to be caught in my mother's waiting hands. "You have a daughter!"

I fall on to my back in exhaustion. Aíne cleans the babe and swaddles it. Ciaran was nice enough to lend some clean water and cloths for the babe. "Mathair, let me see her." I hold my arms out for the child. She is placed in my arms. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Her eyes are those of the O'Turlach's and her hair is the dusky curls of Dagonet. I am filled with so much love for the child.

"What will you name her?" Mother asks from beside me.

I think for a moment. Considering everything that I have been through with her, only one name seems appropriate. "I shall name her Aíena. My brave joy." A conflict of emotions crosses my mother's face. "Mum, what's wrong?"

"Ciaran told me months ago that if I wanted you to live, I must kill the child once it is born. But seeing this child and understanding what she means to you and knowing that she is of my blood, I cannot do the deed. Therefore we have only one option: get you out before Ciaran comes back.

Oh Goddess! How I wish that I was home right now. But now I must prepare for my next journey. My flight from Dubh Seascann.

**A/N: **Me again bringing this time with a little Gaelic lesson. I realized that I used some terms that you may not be familiar with. So, here goes my impromptu lesson.

Iníon daughter

a chroí my dear

Aíena (name) means brave joy. Pronounced aw-eena

Aíne (name) means brave. Pronounced aw nee

Ronan (name) means seal child. Pronounced ro-nan

I think that's everything. See you next chapter! It might not be for a while due to the Hamlet paper I must write. Ugh. Well, review of you feel so inclined! Toodles!


	13. Part Thirteen

**Part Thirteen**

**A/N: **Hello there all of my wonderful readers! Once again I must extend my warmest thanks of gratitude to all of you who religiously review this story. You all keep me from dying on the keyboard with your wonderful words of support. You all get Boston Crème Pies! (sorry, love those things!) Anyway, to my reviewers! To: PhoenixFyre, Twilight Eternal, Barbara of the Tea, Evenstar-mor2004, KnightMaiden, camlann, Tracy137, Amirra, Warrior-princess, Spectral Lady, starnat, and Julianna Edwards.

A special welcome back goes out to Quinn! Welcome back dear! I missed you.

Oh, must make note of the fact that this fic is my distraction from my evil Hamlet paper. Oops, really should get working on that. Maybe not; maybe I'll work on part 14 instead.

And as promised, Part 13 for your reading enjoyment!

**Part Thirteen**

My heart weeps for my mother. She has just forfeited her life in order to protect Aíena and me. Why, when she has just found joy again, why must she lose it? Over the slow passing years everything has been taken from her. Aíne seems to be shadow of what she once was. The strong woman of my childhood is gone from her.

"Fainne, come here and listen closely."

Patiently I listen to my mother's fifth plan of the day. Each is more abstract than the previous one. Aíena suckles contentedly at my breast, unaware of my poor mother's ravings.

"… no, that will never work." Aíne wrings her hands in frustration. "We must stall for time. Goddess only knows when Ciaran will storm down here again."

Watching the moon rise in the sky, I wrap little Aíena in her father's cloak. Soothingly I sing her a lullaby that Aíne used to sing to me when I was a child.

"Over in Killarney,  
Many years ago,  
Me mither sang a song to me  
In tones so sweet and low.  
Just a simple little ditty,  
In her good ould Irish way,  
And I'd give the world if she could sing  
That song to me this day.  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,  
Hush, now don't you cry!  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral."

(Traditional Irish Song)

"I used to sing that to ye," Aíne whispers.

"Lucan delights in hearing it as well." I smooth Aíena's dusky curls. While she sleeps safely nestled in my arms and Dagonet's cloak I watch the rising moon. I know already that Aíena will be doted upon by the Knights when they finally meet her.

A dark shape covering the moon interrupts my thoughts. For a moment I believe that it is Ciaran coming to check up on me. The figure hovers by the grating. "Fainne? Is that you?" The questioning voice is one that I have not heard for many years.

My mother rushes to the grate. "Ronan! Goddess be praised! She has surely answered my prayers this night!"

Ronan slows my mother's praise with his own questions. "Is that Fainne?" He peers closer. "With a babe?"

"Ronan, meet your niece, Aíena. Knowing that my mother is overjoyed at being reunited with her children, I decide that it is time for me to take hold of the family's destiny. "Ronan, listen to me closely. You need to find a way of getting us out of here before Ciaran comes back."

Distinctly I hear Ronan mutter "Tuilí." But he continued on before I could comment. "The Fianna might know a way." Ronan's O'Turlach eyes glinted in the moonlight. "I shall return tomorrow night. We should have something worked out." Without another word he was gone into the night.

"Mathair, you are coming with us." My demand is simple, and yet she shakes her head in blatant refusal. "Mathair!" I snap angrily.

"Nay, iníon. Get Aíena and yourself safely home." She cups my face in her battle hardened hands. "This is your time. End your story with a happy ending. This is a sacrifice that I must make." I gape at her, trying to understand what she is telling me. "I can't explain it to ye; it's just something I must do." Aíne extends her blessings on Aíena and Dagonet, welcoming them to the family.

True to his word, my brother does return the next night.

"Here to get ye out. We must move quickly; Ciaran's coming back. There are some Finna positioned to ambush him and protect us if things go wrong." Ronan then wraps a heavy chain around the grate. After a few agonizing tugs, it breaks free of the stone it maws set in. Dust tumbles down into the cell making me sneeze. "Quickly now!"

Standing on my tiptoes I hand Aíena off into Ronan's extended arms. To get myself up through the grate is another problem. There are no footholds on the walls. Aíne offers me a leg up while Ronan grasps me wrists. Me feet fumble on the slick stone causing me to fall back down to the floor. Outside of the cell, sounds of an approaching guard echo in the hall. Aíne grabs my feet and shoves me upward while Ronan pulls me up.

Once I am out I collapse on the ground, exhausted from childbirth and improper rest. By reason, I should be lying in a bed, not running for my life two days after giving birth.

"Goddess see ye safely!" my mother cries.

Ronan pulls me to my feet. "We cannot delay. Ciaran is very close." He guides me along the back wall of the hold.

What lies before us is something I have only ever heard of in bard's tales. Pale moonlight gives the swamp a haunting look. Broken branches hang forlornly, weeds sway in the light breeze and the solid paths are barely discernable. Surely we will meet our deaths trying to cross this! How could anyone choose to live in a place like this? The mere thought of spending the rest of my life here is chilling. "Goddess preserve me!" I breathe.

Another man has come forward to join us. Ronan introduces him as Fintan. He is to be our guide across Dubh Seascann. He assures me that there are Fianna positioned all around incase anything should happen.

It is tricky work picking our way across. My entire concentration is required so that I do not make a misstep. Aíena is staying blessedly silent as to not attract attention. Our crossing seems to take years and more than once my foot has slipped. Suddenly, a voice cries out:

"Look! People are crossing the swamp!"

Ciaran's voice carries across the distance. "FAINNE! YE WON"T GET AWAY THAT EASILY!" A flurry of arrows rains down upon us as we try to cross. Aíena cries out in distress. I hold her close, trying to quell her fears. Fintan rapidly guides us across, trying to avoid being struck. The surrounding forest has come alive with the arrows of the positioned Finna.

Somehow we reach the other side. Never looking back, Ronan and I make a wide berth around Dubh Seascann as we make our way South.

"The Finna will cover us. I'm taking ye to Kerry. I believe that was where ye ran to those years ago. The healing women are still there I believe."

Kerry; my heart leaps with joy. It is a beautiful place there by the sea. I have nothing except fond memories of that place. It is the place where I learned to be a healer.

Our journey takes countless days on foot for we do not dare use horses. In a small village we learn that Ciaran has killed our mother for allowing me to escape with the baby. I openly weep at hearing this news. But I know that my mother would have fought until her last breath was spent.

Soon, we reach land that is more familiar to me. "Not much farther now," I remark. "Just over those hills."

"Your memory of this place is good, siúr. I am surprised ye made this journey with little protest."

"I will be thankful when I can eat a warm meal and sleep in a real bed again."

"Aíena has protested little as well, I notice." Ronan has taken a fond liking to his neacht.

I smile down at my daughter. "She takes after her athair." Turning to Ronan I look him squarely in the eye, all reminiscing forgotten. "Once you have seen me safely, you must go to Hadrain's Wall. Request to see Arthur and the Knights. Explain to them what has happened. They will act accordingly."

"Ye make the clan proud," Ronan says suddenly. I shoot him a questioning look. He continues on to explain. "The clan members that survived have gone into hiding with the Fianna. I told them what had befallen ye." He grips my shoulder. "They all are proud. Never doubt that. They have sworn to protect ye in any way they can."

To be honest, I am bewildered by what my brother has just said. So much support from a clan that barely knows me anymore. I adjust Aíena in my arms before we begin the last part of our journey.

We reach the dwelling by nightfall. It is a sizeable cottage made to withstand everything. So much knowledge is kept within its doors. Ronan raps on the door. We are greeted by a plump older woman with soft brown eyes, a cheerful mouth, and silvery hair swept back in a braid. Looking past Ronan her gaze settles on me.

"Fainne!" she cries in delight as she rushes forward to embrace me.

"Eilis." I weep for joy. My mentor has not forgotten me.

"Come inside dear." A squall from Aíena alerts Eilis to her presence in my arms. "A little one? Oh bless your heart!" I am ushered inside and sat in a chair beside the hearth. "Maelyn!"

A woman I swear could be Vanora's twin emerges into the room. Her reaction to me is similar to Eilis'.

"Let Maelyn care for the babe whilst ye eat and get washed up," Eilis instructs. I am about to protest when Eilis silences me. "Your daughter will be fine out of your sight for a little while. Maelyn is very good with children." I can do nothing except allow Aíena to be taken from me.

"Must get rid of this filthy wrapping," Maelyn innocently remarks.

I can feel my eyes flash in anger. "You will do nothing of the sort. That cloak…" I cannot bring myself to finish.

Eilis seems to understand. "Wash it and then return it to Fainne." She turns back to me. "Come now, let me look after ye."

After a warm substantial supper, Eilis throws me into a steaming bath. I can feel month's worth of grime come off my body. The wounds I sustained while in Ciaran's care glimmer as silvery scars that score my milk white skin. Eilis chooses to ignore this while she chatters lightly. She is a dear heart to not bother me about what has happened.

"Eilis, where is Sarid?" I notice for the first time that the matron of this house is not here.

"Don't fret dear. She's seeing to a local clan leader." Eilis pours a sweet smelling soap into my hair. "Relax; ye are safe now."

I half expect my stay to be relaxing, allowing me time to gather my strength back. Instead, I am allowed only a few short days of rest before I am put tom work. It is just like it was while I was a novice here. Daily I am tested be Sarid to make sure that my skills are still what they should be. Under her strict tutelage my skills grow tremendously. My training of new concepts follows the same pattern as it did while I was here. Eilis would teach me, and then she would hand me over to Sarid for the test. If something was not done to perfection, Sarid would personally oversee that I did it right.

When I am being tested, Aíena is taken from me so that I can concentrate. I am highly possessive of my daughter. She is my delight while I wait anxiously for Ronan to return with the Knights.

One dreary afternoon, bordering on evening, Eilis is instructing Maelyn and me. Unexpectedly, the sound of a flurry of hooves and a rapid knock in the door is heard. We three women all look at each other, worry written in our eyes. I clutch Aíena tight.

"Stay here," Eilis whispers. She leaves to go answer the knock. From down the hall we hear her call out loudly in our native Gaelic language, "Who calls?"

"A brother and friends."

"What do ye seek in this House of Healing?"

"My sister, Fainne Senara O'Turlach."

Now Eilis has to be careful. One wrong exchange and she could be admitting the Fomhoire or worse yet, Ciaran. "What is her husband's name and where does he hail from?"

"Dagonet, Knight of Sarmatia."

While sitting with Maelyn and Aíena, my heart leaps in uncontrollable delight. Ronan has returned like he promised!

We hear Eilis open the heavy oak door that has protected so many. "Welcome to Kerry." is all she will say.

The heavy Roman tread of Arthur can be heard entering over the threshold. "We have reason to believe that you are keeping Fainne here. Bring her to us." He speaks as though he is commanding a servant.

"If she hears you, she will come on her own accord." Bless Eilis for her protectiveness.

Leaving Aíena in the care of Maelyn, I fly down the hall to the entrance hall. Before me stand all of the Knights and my brother. Instantly I search out Dagonet from the crowd. "Dagonet!" I cry as I shove past Arthur. My arms are flung around his neck while I smother him with kisses. Everything about him is so familiar to my senses, the way her tastes; the scratchy shadow of a beard; the scars that decorate his shaved head. I kiss away the saccharine tears that he has begun to weep.

Dagonet pulls away slightly to look at me. "I thought I'd lost you," he murmurs.

"You will never loose me," I whisper fiercely back. Then, a small playful smile plays across me lips. "There is someone you must meet. Stay here." Before he can protest I hurry down the hall.

"Is everything alright?" Maelyn questions.

"Everything's fine. Aíena gets to meet her athair." I scoop up Aíena from her cradle. She gurgles at me, making me laugh. With my precious bundle snuggled in my arms, I head back to the entrance hall. This is my moment of truth. Will Dagonet accept her? Thousands of fears cross my mind.

"Dagonet," I call to catch his attention. "Come meet your daughter."

He looks at me in complete disbelief. Bors nudges him forward. Tentatively Dagonet approaches me. The other Knights are eagerly leaning in like children trying to see what is going on somewhere they are not supposed to be.

"My… daughter?" Questions fill Dagonet's eyes.

Now he has me shifting my weight uncomfortably. I had hoped that he would have responded better to this. Selfish of me. But, the optimist inside me argues differently. Carefully I place Aíena in his arms. She seems so tiny enveloped in his huge frame. But the same has been said of me many a time. His finger gently traces her face and fingers her dusky curls. He looks up at me, silently asking her name. "Her name is Aíena Senara O'Turlach, daughter of Sarmatia. Born Beltane night by the light of the crescent moon."

Aíena gurgles at her father. With a tiny hand she reaches up and grasps the collar of his shirt. As she tugs at it she squeals in delight.

"Well come now, pass 'er 'round," Bors calls from the back of the crowd. "She's got to meet 'er uncles!"

She is relinquished to the closest Knight who happens to be Tristan. He awkwardly holds her, unsure of what he should be doing. Her little hand reaches up and firmly tugs at one of his wild braids.

"No, don't pull." I gently warn Aíena. Everyone looks at me, surprised to hear me speaking in my native language. Once I had remembered how beautiful my native language was, I had begun to speak it more frequently here in Kerry.

Bors approaches and saves Tristan from any more impending torture from a two month old baby girl. He swings her about, much to her delight. Galahad has her next and tickles her belly like a bothersome older brother would do. When she is handed to Gawain, he cannot escape the tugs at his wild hair.

After Gawain, Lancelot takes her. "This is the girl that I shall marry," he proudly announces.

I scoff at him. "I doubt she'll take you."

Arthur takes Aíena from Lancelot. "You'll be an old man before she is of age to marry." He takes a long look at the girl in his arms. "I guarantee that she and my own daughter Deirdre will be causing much trouble in the near future."

I smiled at Arthur. "It is good to hear that Guinevere bore a child safely. I had wondered how her time had gone."

Suddenly, from where I had left Dagonet near the hall, I hear him cry out. "I HAVE A DAUGHTER!" The next thing I know is that I am being picked up from behind and twirled about. Apparently Dagonet has just realized what exactly he has.

"He's a little slow…" Gawain mutters.

"He's been worrying constantly for half a year now," Bors interjects. "The poor boy's been a bit preoccupied. Let him revel. Dag's wanted children for years now." To Gawain he says, "When you have your own flesh and blood born to you by a woman you love, you'll understand." Bors pats the younger man companionably on the back. "Arthur's come to understand that."

However, Arthur has to go and be a spoilsport. "Fainne, I need you to tell me everything that has happened since your capture."

I balk at his request. "Do you know how much this is going to hurt me!" I cannot control the anger that is rising inside me. "You want me to relive every moment? For what?"

Eilis, in her infinite kindness comes forward. "Now is not the best time. You and your Knights have just arrived. They are tired, as are you. A decent meal and sleep in what you need right now." She turns to my brother. "Ronan, take them to the men's quest quarters."

I have taken Aíena back in my arms. Dagonet puts an arm protectively around me. "You'll come with me," I murmur in his ear.

Later that night, after we finished the supper Eilis delivered to our room, I curl into Dagonet. Tears silently stream down my face. "What does Arthur expect of me?"

Dag soothingly strokes my curls. "He feels it is his responsibility to rectify what has happened to you. I have told him countless times that it is something that your clan members should deal with. This Ciaran fellow is your tyrant, not ours." He holds me close. "Sleep dear. Goddess knows that you've been through enough to deserve a peaceful slumber with me by your side."

I cannot help but smile at Dagonet's words. They are the one thing that is keeping me from fearing what I must tell Arthur in the morning.

**A/N: **Alright my dears, time for another little Gaelic lesson.

Athair - father (pronounced ah-hihr)

Eilis -(name) no direct translation; closest is "my oath" (pronounced ay-lish)

Sarid -(name) no direct translation. (pronounced (sar-yeed)

Tuilí -bastard

Siúr -sister

Neacht -niece

Fianna -(pronounced (feen-ya) A warrior tribe. They are similar to Rogues in that they will give alliance for a price. They lived in secrecy to ensure that they could never be found or attacked. There are varying theories to the exact purpose of the Fianna. I am merely presenting some facts from the take my Grandda told me.

Fomhoire -(pronounced fo-vor-ay). They are the ancient monster people of Ireland. They are thought of as a plague that awaits for you in the Underworld and a force that must be constantly defeated on Earth in the form of evil people. There are many different ways of spelling this name.

Hope his helps you understand some things that I have done here. And, as always, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. Hope you enjoyed this extra special long chapter! Toodles until next time!


	14. Part Fourteen

**Part Fourteen**

**A/N: **Hello folks! You know what this means… HAMLET IS DONE! Let us have a moment of rejoicing. Ok, I'm going to apologize now for the angsty-ness of this chapter. But, it explains a lot of things and is very vital to the plot. But, it also means that the story is almost over. Don't cry yet, there's still a ways to go.

To my reviewers: Your unyielding love and support of this little disaster keeps me going. Love you all. So, to name all of you, here we go: Knight Maiden, Amirra, PhoenixFyre, Evenstar-mor2004, camlann, Mustang Gal, Warrior-princess, starnat, Barbara of the Tea, Julianna Edwards, SpectralLady, Tracy137, and Quinn. Many thanks my dears!

And now, on with the Muppet Show! (Sorry for the shameless love of Muppets!)

**Part Fourteen**

As I awake the next morning, I am greeted by the beginnings of a violent costal storm. Rain batters the shuttered windows while wind howls rips at the thatched roof. I roll over to find Dagonet already awake and watching me. Last night was the first time in a long while that I have been able to sleep peacefully.

"Morning," I murmur with a voice still thick with sleep. Dagonet simply nuzzles my neck before pulling me closer. I gladly welcome the closeness he offers. I have missed these mornings when we just lie in bed, refusing to get up.

However, Aíena has other ideas as to how the morning should be going. She wails to be fed and changed. Anyone who was previously still sleeping must now be wide awake. For one so little she surely has a decent set of lungs on her.

"Silence that wretched harpy!" Lancelot bellows from down the hall.

Laughing, I roll out of bed to attend my little 'harpy'. Oh how I have missed living with these Knights. They offer so much companionship and they love freely. I could not imagine a life without them. Even that womanizing bastard known as Lancelot. Perhaps he will find himself a woman that will teach him his place. Once Aíena is changed, I pull on a simple dress that I can easily feed her from.

"Bricfeasta!" Eilis calls from the kitchen.

The minute I open my dress, Aíena firmly latches herself to my breast. "Someone's hungry this morn," I coo. Turing around, I find that Dagonet has promptly fallen back asleep. Seizing the closest object, which happens to be a pillow from Aíena's cradle, I hurl it at my slumbering husband. "Amach! Amach!" I screech.

Dagonet stumbles out of bed and crosses the room in a daze. I block the doorway. He gives me a rather disapproving look. Mornings are not nice to my poor Dagonet. "Éadaí," I say to him, pointing to the pile of clothes on the floor and then gesturing to his naked form.

He merely grunts at me. I kiss him before making my way down to breakfast. The whole way Aíena contentedly suckles at my breast. Fondly I stoke her dusky curls.

"We're going to have a good storm today," I remark to Eilis.

"Aye, better close up the windows." She ushers me into a nearby chair. "Itheadh sé!" she commands while placing a heaping plate of food in front of me. I laugh at her grandmotherly nature. Some of my fondest memories are of her acting as a grandmother to me. She is a good woman who hates to see the suffering of others. While I eat my plentiful breakfast, the other Knights stumble in with various looks of awake-ness on their faces. Dagonet eases in beside me and steals some food from my plate. I push it to him, knowing that I will never finish it all. Bors flops down heavily into the chair across from me and pounds his fist on the table demanding food.

"Have some civility!" Eilis snaps. "We're not a tavern."

Chastised, Bors mumbles, "Yes, ma'am."

"Fainne," I look up as Arthur speaks my name. "Perhaps after breakfast you can tell us you story?"

I catch Ronan's eyes from across the table. He has heard the tale and he knows ho dark it is. He is also aware of how painful it will be for me to retell it.

Standing, Ronan says darkly to Arthur, "If ye break my siúr by having her tell this tale, then may the Fomhoire rise up and devour ye."

"Is that a threat?" Arthur rises up to face my brother. Ronan towers over him, diminishing Arthur's stately appearance.

"Mark me; that's a promise." With a glint of malice Ronan remarks, "Welcome to Eire, King Arthur."

All I can do is sit and hold my daughter. Bloody men and their damn power struggles. If this must be the day I bear my soul and all its secrets to the world, so be it. I am tired of hiding, tired of running.

"I shall tell you my tale. I warn you now; you will not like what I must tell you. Interrupt and the tale will never be completed." I slowly turn to face Dagonet. "If you don't want me by the time my tale is done, I will understand." He tries to say something, but I will not hear his protests.

Eilis says to me then, "I'll bring them in a while. Go prepare with Sarid."

Leaving Aíena with Dagonet, I go to find Sarid. My mind is blank, but it is soon to e overrun with images I would rather not remember.

"Fainne, come here my child." Even after all of these years, Sarid can still make me feel like a little novice child. "This will require all of the inner strength ye possess. Ye mustn't falter. What ye say today will affect all of Eire. Too many of Eire's daughters have suffered like ye. It is time to change that."

Something deep within me knows Sarid's words to be true, despite how much I do not want to believe them. But there is comfort in what she says. Perhaps I can change something. The suffering must end.

Eilis comes and knocks on the door casement, as there is no door to knock upon. Between all of the rooms, curtains serve as doors. Her knock is the beginning of my own personal journey through the horrors of my life.

"Bring them in," Sarid says in her stately voice.

One by one the Knights solemnly enter and take seats around the room. Outside the storm has begun to quicken. Another omen of my tale. Carefully I observe the assembled group. Dagonet sits closest to me, Aíena protectively tucked in his arms, ready to come and comfort me at any moment. Bors sits nearby while Gawain and Galahad share a bench. Tristan has taken a solitary seat near the stormy window. Lancelot leans against the wall while Arthur takes a seat near Sarid.

Breathing deeply, I begin to speak. "My tale begins when I am ten…"

_Childhood had been blissfully peaceful. The only disturbance was the clan wars that are so much a part of life here. My mother and father both fought, leaving me in the care of the other non-fighters of my clan. Then for a while, the clan wars ceased and my warrior parents were home for me. Though they knew that my path was not that of the warrior, they still taught me the basics while they trained Ronan. But, when I reached my tenth summer, everything changed. It was that summer when my father, despite how much he loathed doing so, he betrothed me to Ciaran. My father and his had been fighting over a piece of land for many years. Our betrothal ceased the constant fight between the families within the clan. _

_Our wedding was set for five years into the future; the summer of my fifteenth year. It was during these years leading up to the wedding when I learned the true nature of Ciaran. To say it simply, he is a monster. Being four years older than me, he felt it was his 'duty' to teach me my place. I was not allowed to see any of my friends. If I did anything that upset him, I would be beaten. He would use leather whips, heavy iron chains, willow branches, anything. As it turned out, noting I did was ever right. But no one believed me when I told them these things. They were blinded by his charming façade. If we were ever in public, he would act like a loving husband-to-be and I was forced to play along for fear of punishment. _

_Salvation did come to me though. IT was the year before we were to be married. I had been doing laundry in my parents home when Ciaran came by in a fit. To vent his anger at something I had no inkling of, he began to beat me, though no fault of my own. Unbeknownst to him, my mother came home early from her scouting expedition that day. Through the kitchen window, she saw me lying bloodied on the floor, Ciaran bearing down on my back with a leather riding whip. That night, when she confronted me, I told her everything. Upon hearing my tale of the past four years, she arranged for one of her trusted scouts to take me away. Knowing my desire to become a healer, she sent me to Kerry. _

_For me, the next few years that I spent in Kerry were absolute paradise. I was free to do what I wished without fear. They taught me the healing arts I so greatly desired to learn. I swore not to disappoint my mother by not taking my studies seriously. I would make her proud to have a healer daughter instead of a warrior daughter. The other girls there became like sisters and daughters to me. There I grew up without fear. _

_But all good things must come to an end I suppose. Fall had come to our little sanctuary and I was out gathering apples and herbs with some of the novices in my care. We paused our gathering for a time and the young ones begged for a story. While I was telling them of the Seven Swans of Lir, Romans came upon us with such force, even though we were a group of harmless women and children. They believed us to be witches who would cast evil spells upon them. They held me captive and made me watch them slaughter the youngest girls and rape the elder ones to death. They took me back to their commander, Titus Malleus as a prize of their conquest. _

_At the age of nineteen, I became a prisoner, yet worse than a prisoner. The years passed me by with so much agony. I was tortured in the cruelest ways possible. They beat me, burned me, cut me, and raped me. They did all of this for their sadistic amusement. Every time I was abused, they liked to do it in front groups of nobles for entertainment. A few times, I conceived a child, but I never carried it to term because they abused me so much that I miscarried every time. I began to fear that I would never bear children. In my twenty-third year, we traveled to the estate of Marius Honorius. They played "games" with me and some of Marius' prisoners. _

_I will not say how I killed my owner. Suffice it to say that I made sure he was dead. Then I did the next logical thing; I ran. It was winter and I was terribly weak. This is the time that Dagonet, now my dear husband, found me lying almost lifeless in a snowdrift. You all know that I loved the next year in bliss. _

_Then Ciaran came back into the picture. He had learned that I was living at the Wall. He devised a feign attack at the coast to draw out the Knights that he knew would protect me if they knew he was after me. Once the Knights were away, he sent his special troops in to take me. It was on the journey to Eire that I learned I was pregnant with Dagonet's child. It was a light of hope for me while I was abused along the way. Ciaran wants me back because he feels that I am his property that has been stolen from him. While I was held prisoner, he tortured me in ways similar to what he had done when we were younger. I am still surprised that I bore Aíena safely. _

_"_Now I am here, and you have all heard my tale. I have elaborated nothing and told every detail. If you choose to abandon me, I will not begrudge you."

I did not realize how much anguish I had been until I wiped the tears from my eyes and cheeks. I had not even been aware of these loving people while my past played so vividly before my eyes. Overwhelmed, I collapse into a sobbing heap on the floor.

Immediately Dagonet is at my side, holding me close in his arms while he whispers words of love and comfort. Uncontrollably, I sob into his chest, soaking his shirt.

Arthur is the first to voice his opinion of my tale. "I understand now why you fear me. If there was a way for me to cast this Roman heritage aside for you, I would do it willingly. I am terribly sorry for what I have represented to you. Forgive me for making you tell this sad tale." He silences himself, seeming to think on what he has just heard.

"Mama!" Aíena wails from Bors' arms.

I lift my head from Dagonet's chest. "D'fhocal chéad ise!" I whisper in amazement. Bors hands her over to Dagonet and me.

"Lucan is going to adore her," Dagonet says to me.

"How is he?" This is a question that has been burning in my mind for some time now.

"He misses you terribly. Countless nights he has cried himself to sleep for missing you." Dag reaches over to caress his daughter. "Luc will be delighted to have a little sister to look after."

Stupidly I blurt out, "You're not leaving me?"

Dagonet's eyes hold mine. "I will never leave you." The sincerity in his voice is enough, even though I see the look of love and devotion in his eyes.

"None of us would leave you," Bors says.

In one of their most unmanly moments, they all envelope me in a huge wan embrace.

"Ronan," I search my brother out from the crowd. My mind is made up. Action must be taken. "Contact them. Have them gather all loyal to the cause." He nods at me before heading out into the storm.

"What are doing?" Arthur questions. He is ignorant of Sarid's knowing smile.

Ignoring Arthur's question for the moment, I turn to Sarid. "Amach, sí lasfaidh sibh!" Sarid hurried to do the command I told her. Things were beginning to fall into place. Once Sarid did as I bade her, things would progress as they should.

"What is going on?" Lancelot demands. He has seized my arm in his anger. Dagonet steps forward to intervene, but I stop him. Wrenching my arm from Lancelot's iron grasp, I turn to face the Knights.

"The clans are going to war."

**A/N: Gaelic Lesson of the Day:**

Bricfeasta – breakfast

Amach – go

Éadaí – clothes

Itheadh sé – eat

Sí lasfaidh sibh – light it

Eww. That chapter was horrible! But, I might just be being over critical of myself. Toodles folks!


	15. Part Fifteen

**Part Fifteen**

**A/N: **Hello everyone! I know it's been a rather long time. Please don't hurt me! Things have been terrible around my place. I apologize for this chapter's brevity, but it is rather important for setting up what is to come.

My deepest thanks go to the following: Knight Maiden, Amirra, PhoenixFyre, Evenstar-mor2004, camlann, Mustang Gal, Warrior Princess, starnat, Barbara of the Tea, Julianna Edwards, Spectral Lady, Tracy137, and Quinn. I love you all deeply for your continued support of my horrid little piece of writing.

And now, with out any further ado, whatsoever, here it is…!(Can you name the movie it's from?)

**Part Fifteen**

Over the next few weeks, the quiet healing village in Kerry turns into a bustling military center. Men and women alike from all over Eire have made their way here. The clans are all here for one purpose: freedom. Though each clan can be strikingly different from the other, they all exist peacefully at the moment.

"Fainne, more are her from Connemara!" Ronan calls from his post.

Scooping up Aíena, I head over to greet the newest arrivals.

"Failta," I say in greeting as I survey this group. They are lean men and women. They shall be perfect climbers for what I mean to have them do. "I need not tell you why you are here. You have made that choice. I am honored that you have joined us."

"The land must be cleansed," the treoraí of Connemara says.

"Join your fellows at supper. They will welcome you."

Jols appears at my side. "Fainne, Arthur wishes to speak with you." I look at the squire. He has been faithful to Arthur for many long years.

"I'll take Aíena," Dagonet says. "I wish to spoil her properly. And besides, I believe this little talk with Arthur will take a while."

Before leaving to answer Arthur's summons, I kiss Dagonet. "You are my keeper, not he."

The minute I enter the room where Arthur waits, I can tell he is upset at something or someone. My assumption is that he is angry with me. Off to the side, Ronan and Sarid stand, ready to put him in his place if he forgets it. He is on our land now. Our rules apply.

"Fainne, what are you doing?" Arthur demands.

I want to scream. Has he been blind to the past weeks? "I do what must be done."

"You are NOT a commander!" he screeches. "Do you have any idea what you are doing? What can a ragtag group of non-united, simple dwelling men," he pauses, "and women, do?"

"Injustice has been done to us. Our time to rise has come." My answers are the truth as though the Goddess herself had spoken. My Druid uncle, had he still been alive, would be proud of me.

"You can do nothing!" Arthur's voice has risen in anger. Ronan begins to move, but I motion for him to stay. "You are a healing woman! What do you know of leading an army?"

"Stop acting like an impudent child! It is not your place to lead MY people." I cannot control my anger. My hand slaps him fiercely across the face. "My father was a fighter, and a strong one. Your Roman ideals cloud your vision. Think like the Briton that your mother made you and you will see why we rise." Infuriated with him, I turn on my heel and stalk out. Behind me I feel the steady presence of Ronan and Sarid. "Ronan, fetch the Knights. Bring them to the Oak. I will be waiting with our brothers and sisters."

"Ye will speak with them." Sarid says it not as a question, but as an observation of my behavior. "In your heart ye know what ye must say."

Purposefully I walk through the encampment. Upon seeing me pass, the gathered warriors follow me to the Oak. It Oak is the ancient meeting place of this village. While I wait, everyone gathers. My spirits are bolstered by the number gathered. It is time for me to stop cowering behind my husband and stand tall like the Celt I am.

"Deartháir ag siúr; Kerry go failta. You all have chosen the Destiny that lies before you. I am honored to be in your company. I stand before you, not as a saighdiúir or treoraí, but as an iníon of Eire. You all know what I have suffered and you know many, possibly even your own kin, who have suffered similarly. Mother Erie weeps while her children suffer. Let us rise up! Now is the time to heal the land and make it ours once more!"

A great cry rises from my kin. It is truly an honor to be amongst them. Off to one side, Bors leads the Knights in "RUUUSSSS!"

Ye spoke well, a chroí," Sarid speaks in my ear. "Go to your family. They wish to speak with ye."

After embracing her, I make my way over to the Knights. Their faces betray that they are proud of me. Dagonet merely stands there and beams at me. Aíena reaches for me and I scoop her up.

"Whatever you said to Arthur surely left a mark," Bors says indicating the angry red hand print on Arthur's face.

"I deserve it," he says stepping forward. "Thank you for taking the shroud away from my eyes. Listening to that speech as a Briton made me realize what you mean. Guinevere would be ashamed if she knew of my folly."

"Arthur, you come to a land where things are much different from what you know." I spoke gently to show that I was only mildly angry with him for his ignorance. But if her insists on commanding, there might be problems.

"Don't you find the number of people here unbearable?"

I turn to face out silent scout. "Tristan, these are my kin. Living as a large clan is typical." I surveyed him for a moment. "Did you not also live in a clan in Sarmatia?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps I have been away too long."

Ronan come running up with a letter in his hand. "The eastern land holders are getting worried. They fear that we will rebel them. Are they blind to the acts of Ciaran?"

"It is likely that he has persuaded them to fear us. He is a powerful landholder himself." I tilted my head to the side to think for a moment. "We shall leave in two days time. Tell the men to prepare." I turn on my heel and head for the cottage to do some thinking.

Arthur comes running after me, his heavy boots crunching the shale rock. "Is that all? No practice; no review of troops; nothing?" He seems bewildered that the warriors will go to battle with no review.

"Arthur, let her be," Dagonet says. "She knows what is best for her people. Trust her." Leaving Arthur, he comes beside me to encircle my waist with a strong arm. I lean against him while his other hand amuses Aíena.

"Fainne!" A member of the Fianna comes running up at full kilter. "There's a group of Ciaran's men heading this way," he pants. "They seek blood."

So much for leaving in two days. We must leave now or we will be slaughtered here. There is nothing to protect us. To the runner I say, "Take some of the Fianna and slow them." He nods his agreement and runs off again. Passing Aíena to Bors, I turn to Dagonet. "Lift me up onto your shoulders." For a moment he seems confused by the request, but then he seems to figure it out. Easily he hoists me up to stand on his broad shoulders. Facing the warriors I call, "Bogaimis cách!"

With almost perfect precision, the warriors begin to break camp. They know it is vital that it seems as though they were never there. The Knights and I return to out chambers to prepare.

Hurriedly I pull on a pair of breeches, black leather bodice designed for fighting, arm braces and knee high boots. It is a drastic change from my normal garb of a healer, but it is necessary for what I must accomplish. Beside me, Dagonet is pulling on his gear. He gives me a reassuring smile to tell me that things will be alright. I pray that he is right. Reaching into the small saddle bag, I pull out two little jars. One holds green body paint, the other brown. Dipping my fingers in, I begin to trace the ceremonial war patterns onto my exposed flesh. When I finish, I do the same for him. To his puzzled look I say, "Now you are one of us."

His only response to me is a passionate kiss. "If I lose you in this, I don't know what I shall do," he murmurs.

"You won't loose me," I reassure him.

"Fainne," Maelyn comes bursting through the door. "Sorry," she mutters. Finding her courage she asks, "What shall we do?"

"You, Sarid and Eilis are taking Aíena and any others who cannot fight. Head to the Skelligs. There you should be safe." I pick up Aíena from her cradle. "Da and I shall return soon sweeting." Both of us kiss her before she is handed over.

Outside, the drums begin to pulse.

"It is time."

**Gaelic Lesson of the Day…**

Failta – welcome

Treoraí – leader

Deartháir ag siúr, Kerry go failta – bothers and sisters, welcome to Kerry

Saighdiúir – soldier

Iníon – daughter

A chroí – my dear

Bogaimis cách – Everyone, let's move!


	16. Interlude

Interlude

The Goddess speaks…

_Choices. They are a fickle thing. They change constantly, never the same thing twice. Influences from all around change how one thinks. As I watch Fainne and Dagonet, I know what governs their decision; their hearts. Both of them are deeply in love and they adore little Aíena and Lucan with all of their hearts. Their greatest wish is not to right the wrongs that were done in the not so distant past, but to protect the future. To make a world where their children will not have to fear for their lives with each passing day. _

_From above the Earthly plane they trod, I watch and guide them as they call. Nothing will be easy for them. They face the hardest part of tale now. What they decide will have an impact on the future to come. I control nothing and everything. I shape the many forked paths that they walk each day. I know where they will go, but I do not know how they will get there. I present only options; not a single path. _

_War is upon then, for good or ill. Every piece is poised to play a part. The world will be defined by the future actions of Fainne, the Celtic people, Arthur and his Knights, and Ciaran and his men. The battle they approach will be the bloodiest and most vicious combat they have ever seen. Lives will be lost and plans will go awry. This is the way it is meant to be. _

_When things go against you, let your emotion go. Curse me, denounce me, do what ye will. Just remember that I am always here. The Mother never abandons her children. _

III

**A/N:** I am SOOOO sorry that this has taken much longer than expected. I feel terrible for not updating, but foul circumstances have prevented me from working on any personal projects. I cannot say that updates will be regular, but I will try to keep from going months without updating.

To my loyal reviewers: I deeply hope that you have not abandoned this tale. I will be completed. I swear by the Goddess it shall. May the light you once shone for me be reignited. Much love to you all.

Slan!


	17. Part Sixteen

**Part Sixteen**

**A/N: **To all of my lovely reviewers, thank you so much for your support. I apologize both for the long delay and the shortness of this chapter. I've been having some bloody evil writer's block on almost all of my works. I hope you all enjoy!

Slan!

**Part Sixteen**

Shafts of fading light break through the thick woods. With the moon beginning to rise beside us, we move with surety of foot as we make our way toward Dubh Seascann. The evening humidity is oppressive and our bodies gleam with perspiration and slick body paint. I run alongside Dagonet, slightly surprised at how well he can move his large frame. My thoughts drift to Aíena and hope that she is alright. Dagonet slips his hand through mine, seeming to read my thoughts. There is a comfort there in that grasp that tells me for certain that everything shall be all right.

Branches lash my exposed arms as I run with my brothers and sisters. The brief shots of pain are a welcome distraction from my thoughts of doom. Fear is my companion on this journey into uncertainty. I know that we go to battle, but I cannot see what will be after. Then a thought hits me like a bolt of lightning: this will be my first time in battle. I pray to the Goddess that it is the only time that I will have to venture into battle.

"Fainne!" Arthur calls, dragging me out of my thoughts. "A respite, please!"

I nod my consent. "Stad" I call. The gentle drumming of feet slows then silences. Everyone is glad of the rest, but know that if needed, they would run until the end of time to secure their homeland.

"Do you have a plan for when we arrive?" Arthur questions me suddenly. I sigh in exasperation. This is not the first time he has asked me this. I turn to answer, when Galahad pipes up.

"She's got to have something. She wouldn't be doing this if she didn't, right?"

"You've much to learn 'bout the powers of women," Bors states. "My Van changes her mind at least a dozen times in one single moment!"

"It is something that the treoraí and I have devised. All shall be revealed in due time, Arthur. Fret not; you're time will come in this." I spoke to him as though placating a small child who desperately desires a sweet.

A large man then silently appears by us. "Fainne, we are anxious to move from here. There is an evil feeling here."

"We shall move, fear not Cearul. I too can feel the evil of the forest. Ciaran has been here. Tell everyone to be on their guard." Cearul retreats back to the body of the army. We have no choice but to keep moving now.

Another fortnight of rugged and tough travel brings us within sight of Dubh Seascann. Its dark walls and seemingly impregnable structure looms before us. I can hear the chatter of the warriors; they wonder at what we hope to accomplish. At these times, every warrior, no matter how seasoned he or she may be, wonders if they will succeed.

Tonight, the treoraí and I shall tell Arthur and his Knights of our plan. It is rather simple, despite the various parts that it will employ.

"Dag, fetch everyone here. It is time to reveal the plan." He merely nods at me, his inner warrior taking over. I am proud of my husband. He makes it seems as though nothing in the world can harm me. After years of pain, safety is what I crave the most and I have found it in my ionúin fear céile.

Once the party has assembled, a nod comes from the eldest treoraí and I begin to outline what will happen. "Our first attack will come from the walls. The warriors of Connemara have volunteered to scale the walls. I have explained to them the structure and positions of the various wall guards. Their job is to secure themselves as the wall guards without causing undue suspicion. A small force from Kerry shall position themselves on the left of the swampland, protecting our left flank. My warriors from Galway will do the same on the right flank. Since we are dealing with a swamp, there are numerous pathways that we can be reached from."

"But how do we know where they will be coming from, if they even march out to meet us?" Poor Arthur looks severely confused.

I seize a stick and start to draw what I have been explaining. I draw the few pathways that I know and show where the attacks could possibly come from. "It is entirely possible as well that Ciaran will not come out to meet us, but force us to navigate the deadly pathways to find his centre courtyard."

"This is too much," Galahad says in awe. "What possessed this man to build his fortress here?"

"Ciaran is mad. There's nothing else to say." Dagonet flicks a piece of wood off his shoulder. "You remember what he did to Fainne, right?"

That was the closing argument. They all remember the tale I had told them when they had arrived in Kerry. "Do not pity me. That time is over. Now is the time to make things right." The rest of my plan is explained with little interruption. It is decided that tomorrow evening is when we shall attack.

16.16.16

The evening we have chosen is dark and grey; storm clouds threatening to open above us. But it is a blessing and a curse to have such a clouded night; it offers better protection but makes the swamp paths even more treacherous. There is the shuffle of feet as the group of warriors from Connemara makes their way across the swampland. Their shadows disappear into the treacherous paths that soon the Knights and I must brave. On my signal, the two flank groups of Kerry and Galway move to go to their positions. Now we wait for out signal.

Standing amongst the Knights, I am truly afraid for the first time in my life. Nothing has prepared me for this moment. I may have endured my torturous imprisonment and the cruelty I suffered there, but I have no preparation for battle. I know a few fight tricks, but nothing on the scale of trained warriors. It is a whole other experience. My pounding heart sounds deafening in my ears and my blood courses violently through me. It is one thing to wait for the end of battle to cure those who have been wounded. This wait to walk into most certain doom crushes me. Then the signal I have been waiting for reaches me line of sight.

Silently we move, braving those paths that will not ever yield a captive. Our warriors spread out like a blanket, ready to smother our foe. Suddenly, to our right comes the sound of the Galway warriors screaming their battle cry. We have been discovered. What happens for the rest of the night is a blur in my memory. Our forces close in on Dubh Seascann, engulfing it. Battle takes place in the centre courtyard and on the swampy paths.

Men and women are everywhere, fighting for the preservation of their motherland which was been tarnished by the evil bred here. Various battle cries resound in the night air, making the forest wolves howl in protest. My brother Knights are in the fray, their deadly skills guiding them through the fight. Blood and flesh are all around me. My stomach gives a violent lurch as I see the head of one of the Galway men fly off its body.

For a time, I shrink from the action, desperately seeking to be far from here. I shake violently, and not from the cold. My stomach turns again and this time I lose its contents into a corner.

_Child_.

I glance around, trying to find the speaker of this Otherworldly voice.

_Ye mustn't fear. Fear will cause the end of what you hope to achieve here._

"Who speaks? Show yourself!" My fear makes me bold at the sound of this voice.

Then, the air before me ripples and reveals Cathubodhva, Goddess of Battle and Ravens. _Child, do not fear so. There is hope yet. _

Then, beside her, Morrigan appeared. She is the Goddess of Death and Destruction, sister to Cathubodhva. _The battle rides strong with you and your men. Do not despair. The evil that has been wrought shall be cleansed from this land. _

Cathubodhva then spoke. _Look to the South when the battle ravens cry the new day. Do not despair. _

_The age of tyranny shall come to a close,_ Morrigan spoke. _Mother Eire shall not suffer any longer._

"What of my child?" I suddenly burst out.

Together the Sister Goddesses intoned, _She is safe…_ before drifting off into the mist.

With renewed strength, I returned to the battle. Things were quite different since I had last seen them. So it was true then. While in the presence of Divine Ones, time seems to halt but the outside world continues and the change is significant. When I had first seen the Sisters, it was the deep of night, now the first light of dawn was beginning to break. Recalling the charge of Cathubodhva, I climbed atop a wall and turned my gaze to the South. Straining my eyes, I could faintly make out the movements of an army coming towards Dubh Seascann, calling our battle cry.

"Dagonet!" I screamed. "Fetch Bors and open the front gates!" The army was moving at alarming speed and would be at the gates any moment now.

Looking at me oddly, Dag did as I bade him, only to be confronted with an entire army. "Who are you?" he growled.

"Husband of Fainne, do not fear. We are here to aid thee." When these new men saw the raging battle in the early morning light, they ignored their commander who was speaking to Dagonet and rushed into the fray with reckless abandon.

Even with these new men, the battle continued for many hours. All were exhausted, but none were willing to break from this madness. I fought as hard as I could beside my brothers and sisters. Then, a voice behind me made me spin about.

"Fainne, I never dreamed that I would see ye on a battle field." It was Ciaran.

"I may be a healer, but my parents were great warriors," I spat at him. "I do have some battle skill." Despite my hard words I was deathly frightened. He moved closer to me, sword poised at my heart.

"I will make thee pay for what ye did." He raised his blade to strike at me. Time seemed to stop and I was sure my heart stopped beating. When I was sure my life would be over, a large blade came swooping down and stopped the foul blade of Ciaran. A growl was heard behind my back, and I dared to look. There was Dagonet, glaring fiercely with the battle rage flaring up inside of him.

I retreated away from the confrontation only to be pulled into a close hold by Bors. The battle itself had ended, but now all waited on the duel between Dagonet and Ciaran. Both men fought savagely, growling ferally. Watching this, I wept. Partly out of fright for my ionúin fear céile and partly out of the realization that this was all my fault. Amid the clash of blade on blade, I gave one last wrenching sob before I blacked out in Bors' arms.

**Gaelic Lesson for this chapter: **

Dubh Seascann – Black

Stad – stop, halt

Treoraí – leader

Ionúin fear céile – dear husband


	18. Part Seventeen

**This Is My Choice**

**A/N: **My sincerest and deepest apologies for making you all wait so long for this. I've been in a terrible spot as of late. Nothing seemed to work. Hence why I sort of just dropped off the face of the Earth for a little while. I hope I haven't disappointed you all in any way. Please forgive me.

As always, the non-movie elements are my own. Nothing else.

**Part Seventeen**

My eyes opened slowly, flickering against the bright sunlight that was pouring through the window. All over, I ached terribly, and I could barely move my limbs. The room did not look familiar to me at all. I was unsure as to why a room at Dubh Seascann would be so brilliantly lit. A slight panic began to set in, gripping at my heart in a tight and cold fist. I open my mouth to call out, but the only sound that escapes my cracked lips is a rasping cough.

Then, like a sound far in the distance, the door creaks open, and from behind, emerges a woman I have never seen before in my life. "My lady, bless the Goddess you are awake!" She sweeps her eyes over me quickly before darting out of the room. Before I even have time to ponder what is going on, the face of Eilis is staring down at me.

"Eilis?" I manage to croak.

"So good of ye to finally wake," she mutters under her breath as she looks me over. Ever the constant healer she is. A warm herbal wash wipes my aching limbs down, trying to restore mobility. Under Eilis' ministrations I feel like a child again.

"Where…Aíena…long?" My speech is fragmented due to the raspy nature of my throat.

"Hush, child. Ye are back in Kerry. Maelyn and Sarid are on their way back from the Skelligs with the little one." She begins to massage my limbs, hoping that mobility will return to them. "Ye've given us quite a fright, child. Lay back and try to rest. I'll look on ye later."

Exhausted, I lean back on the pillow and close my eyes. Swiftly I succumb to restful darkness.

The next time I awake, I find myself standing on a rolling hill of emerald grass. A little ways away from where I stand, figures of my past walk in measured paces, glancing at me occasionally. I see my mother and father walking arm in arm as they used to do when I was young. Children I knew growing up are there, playing games that are familiar to me. I try to walk towards the people I know, but my feet refuse to move.

Then from the mists emerges a woman garbed in an iridescent green gown, milky skin and rich chestnut hair.

_Fainne, my child. _

Realization hit me and immediately I bow before the woman. "Mother Goddess." I cannot bring myself to speak her name. "Why do I walk in the Land of Shades?"

Her laugh is like tinkling glass bells. _Do ye not know? Ye have passed on, waiting to be reborn again. _

I balk at her, my mouth agape. "It cannot be so! Dagonet…Aíena! What is to become of them?" Tears threaten to fall from my eyes.

_They will mourn, but they will follow their path. They have a strong clan about them to help. When the time comes, each will pass here, to the Land of Shades. Do you not see? If ye say here in the Land of Shades, ye could be reborn to great things! Power is within your grasp! Ye need but reach out and take it. I have seen your new path, and it is great. Strife and pain is forever finished, ye need just follow me. _

Listening to the Goddess, I felt tempted to follow her and set my feet on this new path she spoke of. But there was a tug at my heart. I stole a glance at my parents. That was when I knew. "Lady, I cannot."

_Why ever not my child?_

"My fate lies not within great power. My fate has led me to a wonderful life within Hadrian's Wall. After experiencing all that I have, I would not trade a single moment to lead a life of greatness. I will not abandon my husband and daughter. Ye shall release me so I may walk again in the realm of the living."

The Goddess gave me a gentle smile. _Is this what you truly wish for?_

My gaze never falters from hers as I respond, "Seo mo rogha. Mar mé toil, chomh beidh sé

The Goddess actually laughs at me. _Your dedication is admirable. Ye have passed the test. Go, join your clan once again and live out your days as ye see the path unfold before ye. Dia bí!_

Bowing, I accept her blessing. "Dia bí."

Slowly, my vision clouds and darkness enfolds me. I feel gently caressed by this all encompassing dark. Deeper and deeper I let myself fall, not caring what the consequence may be. I have faith that I will end up where I need to be.

**Gaelic in this chapter:**

Seo mo rogha – This is my choice

Mar mé toil, chomh beidh sé – As I will, so mote it be

Dia bí – Blessed be


	19. Part Eighteen

**This Is My Choice**

**Part Eighteen**

_Many Years Later…_

Walking out of my small cottage, the one the Knights had built for Dagonet and I, my eyes blink at the brightness of the sun. My old eyes, through the glare of the summer sun, notice how much has changed around the fort. The wind picks up, playing with my long grey hair as I walk towards the main compound.

Over the years since my abduction and subsequent return to Hadrian's Wall, a thriving community has grown under the protection the Wall offers. No longer are the Woads feared; they have become an integral part of this community. The Romans are long gone, leaving us to thrive. We may not be as advanced as the Romans had been, but we are now living the sort of lifestyle that we were meant to lead.

As I reach the practice yard, I see my Knights, lounging in the sun, watching their kin. My dear Dag leans against a tree, cradling Aíena's newest baby against his broad chest.

"Fainne, my love," he calls across the yard. "Come sit with me and our brothers."

All of us are old now, the years written in the lines on our faces and the grey in our hair. I am truly amazed that all of us, except Guinevere, survived these long years. The throes of childbirth had claimed her long ago, during the birth of her second child. Arthur had despaired, but over time, he accepted the loss and raised his two children with my help. I had begged him to remarry for the sake of his children, but he told me no, saying that his children had me and Vanora, along with all of the other Knight's wives to look after them. Only Tristan had never married, saying that he was not the husbandly sort.

The Knights who married, Gawain, Galahad, and even Lancelot, were blessed with many children, and in them found a joy that no battle-lust could defeat. Now they have many grandchildren running about their ankles, and their joy increases ever more. Dagonet and I only ever had Lucan and Aíena as children. But from their marriages, we have been blessed with many grandchildren.

Arthur's son in law, Thom who married Deirdre, now rules Hadrian's Wall. He rules much like Arthur, but without the gloom of Rome breathing down his back. Under his hand, we have pulled through many dark times that had threatened to tear us asunder.

Sitting here with my husband and brothers, surrounded by our grandchildren, I am content and blessed. I would not trade anything to live the life that I have lived. Though it had been marked by many dark times, there was much more light to dispel the darkness. The Goddess' offer had been tempting, but it was not suited for me. I am a woman of the Earth; it is to She that I am bound to serve til my dying day. And I know that Dagonet, Arthur, Bors, Gawain, Galahad, and Tristan will be right with me til the end of our days.

**Fin **

**A/N: **Well, that's the end. I hope you all have enjoyed this. I do apologize for the extreme length of time between posts, but as I'm sure you all know, life tends to get in the way sometimes. Perhaps I'll see you all again sometime. You all have been wonderful with your lovely reviews. Thank you!


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